


On a Wing and a Prayer

by Draco_sollicitus



Series: Damerey WWII [1]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1940s Dating, Angst, Bletchley Park, Codebreaker Rey Andor, F/M, Fluff, Gratuitous 40s music references, Historical Inaccuracies Inevitable, Loss of Parents, POV Rey, PTSD, Pilot Poe Dameron, Pining, Prisoner of War, Relevant Warnings at beginning of each chapter where necessary, WWII AU, World War II, flangst, letter writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: In 1944, Rey Andor begins work at Bletchley Park shortly after she completes her studies at Cambridge. A talented linguist and mathematician, she is taken in swiftly by Leia Organa, an old family friend, to work alongside an elite team of codebreakers. As the war with the Axis Powers rages on, a group of skilled USAAF pilots arrives at RAF Cheddington, not half an hour from Rey's workplace, to train Allied airmen in the best methods of scrambling the Nazis and Italians from the air.Initially not a fan of the Yankees, Rey meets Major Poe Dameron and is eventually charmed by the sweet and earnest pilot from Miami. As rapid and life-changing as their romance is, the nature of the war and their respective roles in it begin to test the strength of their relationship.





	1. May, 1944

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a historian! Nor am I a cryptographer! There will be many mistakes, I am sure; I am here for the story, and I hope that's decent enough to make up for my egregious errors. (Also, Hut 6 actually did deal with axis air forces, and had a different leader/group of people, but I housed the SW people in there, and had Leia run it for the sake of this fic).  
> ((Also, at one point, Rey solves a poem code that the Americans tried to use to encrypt a message - obvi they're simplistic and wouldn't be used for something so important, and I don't mean to make Rey sound like a "I am a magic female character who can solve anything these idiots can't" but my own Mary Sue-self isn't good enough at math to use anything else, so))
> 
> I apologize already!
> 
> This was written from a request on tumblr where someone asked for a WWII with Rey as a codebreaker at Bletchley, and Poe as a pilot. 
> 
> There will be a lot of angst and a lot of sentiment; when things get sticky/violent, I will be sure to put warnings in the chapter notes.
> 
> Title of the fic comes from "Comin' in on a Wing and a Prayer," a real 1940s bop about pilots/planes
> 
> Thanks lovelies <3

Rey Andor often biked to work when the weather was pleasant, and today was a spectacular demonstration of England at the height of spring. It was the best weather the country had to offer, and Rey enjoyed the breeze rushing through her hair as she pedaled down the lane towards her destination.

Freshly graduated from college, she had been swiftly recruited to Bletchley Park by Leia Organa to work in her department as a cryptographer. She liked to think her parents would be proud of her – they were spies during the Great War, her mother a linguist, her father an operative – and working for their close friend would certainly go a long way in encouraging her in that belief.

The road she was on was rarely traveled by cars, but she still hugged the right side of it, wanting to be in control in case a car was approaching. Important visitors to BP were more likely to come by train, but she didn’t trust the world enough, not since that cold day in ’36 when so much had been taken from her. The scar on her side twinged at the memory, and Rey shook off the chilling thought to bask in the glorious May sunlight with renewed vigor.

She hummed merrily to herself, smiling at the flock of birds that took off from the pear grove a hundred yards to her right, and ran through yesterday’s problems in her head. Rey really needed to talk to Ben, but she needed to report to Block D as soon as she got on grounds as Hut 6 was off-limits today. Hopefully she’d catch him before he reported to work; she was worried that Ben hadn’t gotten sleep again last night after the remarkable system failure their computers had suffered yesterday. It had taken her six hours just to get him to admit it had been human error on their end, and not some German sabotage that had led to the grid failure; he was still muttering to himself when she left at sundown yesterday, unable to put off her walk home any longer in the face of the growing darkness.

Rey frowned, slowing her feet on the pedals briefly, leaning over her handlebars while she lost herself in thought. Some of the boys had been unhappy to see a young woman promoted so quickly to Hut 6, but Leia had been adamant to have her on the team. Logically (and Rey was always logical, even in the face of her own, admittedly intense emotions), she understood she had every right to be there – top of her classes at Cambridge, graduate coursework complete before 22, fluent in four languages, an eidetic memory – but it still hurt to see people scowl at her promotion and whisper about a female boss preferring female employees.

She did smile thinking of Leia’s retort to a man brash enough to voice his opinion aloud and near the formidable woman –

“ _Of course I want a woman working for me,_ ” she’d snapped yesterday. “ _You kidding me? It’s that or be stuck with someone like you because let’s face it, most of the men here are exactly like you. Now clean that drool off your chin, get back to work, and maybe I’ll consider you for a promotion in five to seven years, or whenever you discover your own usefulness.”_

Rey was violently stirred from the memory at a horn blaring behind her. She whipped her head around to see a car bearing down at her from _the wrong side of the road._ It pulled up closer to her, still on her side, and honked again.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” She shouted. The windows were rolled down, no doubt for the passengers to enjoy the beautiful, clean air of the countryside, but it also meant they could hear her tirade all the better. “You’re on the wrong side of the road, you idiots!” The car swerved to avoid her and she fought the urge to flip them the bird. The man behind the wheel scowled at her as if _she_ were the one in the way, and it took every ounce of strength she had to not smack the side of the car as it passed her. “Bunch of damn Yankees!” She said, loud enough to be heard. The car was _full_ of men wearing uniforms, USAAF by the looks of it.

All the men frowned at her, but before the car accelerated away from her, Rey caught the eye of a man in the backseat, nearest the door. He, unlike the rest, looked horrified and apologetic, and he opened his mouth to say something – but then the car rushed away, and Rey felt something strange in her gut when he leaned out of the window to look back at her.

It didn’t feel like all the other times men had leered at her or had tried to intimidate her with their stares. No. That was definitely a look of something other than physical interest. Rey shook off the feeling that she’d seen him before, an odd feeling of connection, and continued on her way.

As she locked her bike up on the compound, it hit her that the man who looked like he wanted to apologize was terribly handsome. It wasn’t something that she often noticed in people, but thinking back on it – which she had, for the last ten minutes since the car passed her – Rey realized his face was almost etched on her mind; strong jaw, a distinctive nose, expressive brown eyes. Her memory was, to be frank, perfect, so she figured that was why she couldn’t forget his face.

If she couldn’t remember what the other men had looked like, besides white and stupid, well, that was probably just the adrenaline of having almost been run over.

She quickly caught the eye of Joanie and waved at her eagerly. Her friend waved shyly back, her files for the day already clutched to her chest, and hurried off towards her office. Rey continued to hum, unable to shake the song she’d heard on the radio last night, and bumped into Ben Solo while she walked towards Block D. He looked half-awake, and startled when she greeted him.

“Tell me you got some sleep, Solo,” she said softly. His large shoulders were hunched over, his glasses almost falling off his nose. Rey stood up on tiptoes without breaking her stride to push them up slightly. It was a sign of their lifelong friendship and understanding of each other that no one got a finger in the eye.

“If I tell you I did, can I skip the lecture?” He sighed and tried to smile, but the circles under his eyes spoke for themselves.

“You'll catch your death one of these days, Benjamin Bail Solo ,” Rey scolded.

“Ugh, you sound like Mother. Which is truly wonderful, really, because she works here too. No escape for me.” Ben shook his head. There was the sound of pounding feet behind them, and Rey and Ben stood out of the way, under the shade of a tree, while a group of soldiers ran by.

Among them was the handsome man from the car, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat in the warm spring sun. He caught Rey’s eye and smiled – hesitant, to be sure, but sweet and genuine – and Rey frowned back, unsure of why he was smiling at all.

His smile faltered, and he turned to continue running. Rey stared at him, and next to her, Ben snorted.

“You know him?”

“No,” Rey shook her head and then started to walk in the direction perpendicular to the airmen, not waiting for Ben to stop staring at the men. “His car almost hit me this morning is all. He probably just doesn’t want me to yell at him some more.”

“I don’t know,” Ben sounded deeply amused, his voice coming from three feet behind her. “He did just stop and turn around to stare at you.”

“Did he now?” Rey refused to look. That would give Ben and the American too much satisfaction. “Hm.”

“Yes. He also tripped when someone yelled at him to keep running. Between that and his apparent interest in you, maybe there’s something the matter with him.”

“Ha, ha. Funny, Solo.” Rey scowled at him after he strode quickly to catch up with her.

An actual smile was on his face, so she couldn’t be too mad at him. He looked around furtively and then smiled down at her. “Maybe he was staring at me.” Dear, sweet Ben. Rey looked around too, to make sure no one was listening. She liked to think no one here would care that Ben was homosexual, but horrible things had been done to people even more important than him, so they could never be too careful. Still, nothing could really be implied from this conversation, just some light banter between friends – and, no one was around.

“Maybe,” Rey allowed. “You are very handsome. If I talk to him later, I’ll ask after his number for you.” Ben made a noise not unlike a giggle, and nodded at her before branching off to report to Hut 6. “Why do you get to go in?” Rey pouted, and he pivoted to sigh at her.

“Have a stupid meeting with the stupid Americans,” he said, waving in farewell before turning around. “Trust me, I would much rather be teaching those slack-jawed idiots French phrases with you.”

“I doubt that.” Rey moaned in her throat from the sheer frustration, and stomped over to the block to get it over with. She really needed more friends at BP, friends who weren’t once-in-a-generation geniuses who were always in high demand in places she was not allowed.

***

About an hour into trying to get a boy from the North to pronounce "eur" correctly, Rey was about ready to scream. She smiled stiffly at her unwilling pupils - some of them twenty years her senior, all of them male - and looked up with some relief when a courier hurried towards her.

"Miss Andor!" She squeaked. Rey wracked her brain for a name - Susan Jones, from Cambridgeshire, and smiled at her.

"Yes, Miss Jones?" 

"They need you in Hut 6," the girl gasped. "Immediately." Rey nodded and looked at her pupils briefly.

"I'd say study, but I'm not sure that would help," Rey said coldly. "I'll be back tomorrow. Maybe you'll have more luck with Italian." They gathered their things, and she didn't wait around for them to pack before she swept out of the block and towards the hut. 

She flashed her badge at the security at the door, and he nodded at her; they already knew each other of course, and Rey chucked her bag at him, not even waiting to get her effects back. Assuming they'd have pencils in the meeting room, she didn't really need anything else. Susan pointed at the door, and Rey thanked her, already knocking.

"Come in," Leia called. Rey opened the door, and walked in to see a collection of USAAF officers, Ben, and Leia gathered at the table. There was a collection of pictures on the pinboard, and a stack of files on the table.

The man up front didn't pause in speaking as she walked in.

"...and we lost fifty good men that day, it was absurd! We need to strategize more effectively moving forward to make sure our boys don't lose their lives in vain. If we rotate the drop zones..."

While he was talking, Rey walked up to the table and examined the open folder lying there. She saw a collection of five words clipped to the other side, and then a series of letters jumbled together. One look was all it really ever took for her; as she looked back up the table, the letters were already scrambling around in her head, lining up into columns with the appropriate numbers. 

Her mind working as it was, she almost missed it when the man stopped talking to bark at her. "Good! I was wondering when you'd get a girl in here for some refreshment, Organa. Me and my men would love a coffee, Miss."

Rey blinked in surprise, and then turned to look at Leia and Ben.

Leia looked irritated; Ben looked impossibly amused, if also disbelieving. 

Her face flushed, and she looked at the man - the brigadier general, judging by his medals - who stared back at her expectantly. Rey then looked at the other Americans, her face flushing deeper when she spotted the handsome officer from earlier - and here, closer to him, she saw that he was a major - leaning against the wall, the only one in the room standing besides his commanding officer, looking mildly bored. He offered a hopeful smile to her, and Rey swore she saw red.  _Coffee._ She did  _not_ get top marks at the best college in the country, graduating over every man and woman on campus to fetch  _coffee_ for a bunch of bloody Americans.

But fine. If they wanted coffee, she'd get them coffee.

"I'll be right back," she said as sweetly as possible before pivoting and storming out the door. She made sure to slam it on the way out, and she stomped over to the side of the room to grab the entire damn tureen of coffee. She kicked a cart over, and grabbed a stack of cups.

"Let me get that for you, Miss Andor!" Susan said, stumbling over. Rey shook her head at her.

"No, no," she said cheerfully. "I got this."

In the minute and a half since she'd looked at the folder, she'd already pieced it together. Fifty men lost over that damn message? Irresponsible was what it was. She didn't bother knocking this time, merely kicked the door open, dragged the tray in, and set the coffee none-too-gently in front of the officers and Ben. Leia was standing now, up at the board with General Arsehole (Ralter, his tag said. Unimportant. But it was good to know details).

Rey stormed back to the other end of the table, infuriated when another officer - not the brigadier general who was talking again, nor the handsome major still leaning up against the wall - nodded at her dismissively.

"I can't believe it was broken-" the brigadier general was saying, and she legitimately snorted at it.

“Of course it was broken.”

The American officers turned to stare at her, and Rey couldn’t be bothered to blush in mortification for having interrupted. Judging by the look on Ben’s face, they’d been blustering for quite some time over this, even before she was called in.

“What do you mean, Miss—” The man - Brigadier General Ralter - raised his eyebrows. The handsome lower-ranking officer leaning against the wall merely smirked at her, and that irritated her enough to respond.

“Just _Miss_ is fine, thank you. And, judging by these words, you used a common sonnet, most likely Shakespeare, 131.” Rey huffed when the Americans only responded with oddly blank looks. She stared back at the collection of words, which hadn’t even been translated from English, for God’s sake. “The SOE hasn’t used a poem code in years. They’re very simple.”

“I don’t know if double encryption could be considered _simple_ -“

“Using the words you provided, the message in this file,” Rey tapped her finger against the open manila folder, not letting Brigadier General Ralter continue. “Says ‘the leaflets are to be dropped over site a and c at ten in night stop waiting for confirmation of drop site stop planes will land fifteen miles nw of stalag six stop.’ Of course they broke it. I’m sorry you lost men, but if I can translate your message in my head in less than two minutes, I don’t see how the Nazis would struggle with it.”

Halfway through her speech, the major stood up straight and began to examine her strangely, but Rey didn’t bother analyzing it. Brigadier General Ralter looked furious, and then embarrassed; and, Ben was hiding a smile behind his large hand by the end.

It certainly didn’t help that she slammed the folder shut and threw it across the table at the Americans to punctuate her statement. Then, the silence was deafening, and Rey looked to Leia to see if she had made a serious miscalculation. If she hadn’t known the older woman, she should think she looked disapproving; however, the mischievous light in her eyes suggested otherwise.

“How on earth did you-“ the general started, but Ben coughed loud enough (really, it was a poorly disguised laugh) that he stopped speaking.

“Didn’t you write a poem code for my nineteenth birthday a few years back, Miss Andor?” Ben drawled. “I believe you used Tennyson. How old were you again? Fifteen?”

“I was fourteen,” Rey muttered, scowling at her friend. He grinned and looked back at the Americans, reclining in his seat cheerfully. “Which you should know, as a mathematician.” He winked broadly at her, and then leaned forward and snagged a cup from the tray she’d unceremoniously dumped on the table a few minutes prior.

“But, thank God you brought us coffee. Good use of your time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I wonder who the handsome major is?)
> 
> ~Damerey officially meets next chapter~


	2. I Could Write a Preface on How We Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a June evening, Rey Andor stops by the local pub and spots a familiar face; she avoids eye contact, given how they left things. When she returns to the pub four nights later with her best girl friend in tow, the handsome major from her disastrous meeting in May is back again. When they have an actual conversation (once she agrees to give him a chance, that is), Rey is surprised to find that maybe she doesn't find all Americans repulsive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Damerey meets officially in this chapter, y'all)
> 
> Chapter Title from the 1940 showtune "I Could Write a Book," from the musical Pal Joey (covered by the likes of Fitzgerald and Sinatra)
> 
>  
> 
> [I Could Write a Book](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Csd5Jy6JXFs) (But imagine Poe singing the male part, and cancel the female's lines about not liking school b/c obvi Rey liked school)

Rey wandered down the street to her favorite pub, The Falcon. It had been sponsored by Leia’s late husband during the last war, and she’d often played card games in the back when her parents visited Buckinghamshire as a child. It was a place of comfort and familiarity, holding many of her fondest memories, and Rey – exhausted from the last weeks of work, trying to piece together a new, innovative method of encrypting messages for the Allies as they attempted to scramble the German aerial forces – was eager to relax in one of her favorite locations.

She pushed the door open, the calming, warm winds of June kicking around her ankles, and walked inside, waving at the bartender, Chewie. Rey was humming to herself as she walked up to the bar, the warm and homey smell of the pub washing around her. It was bliss – and she often joked to Chewie that she’d quit codebreaking and come work for him in a heartbeat if it weren’t for her parents’ legacy that she needed to uphold – and Rey almost missed a potential source of upset. Almost.

In the corner, growing louder by the second, was a collection of Americans, USAAF by the looks of them. They must be quartered down at RAF Cheddington if they were up here, but Rey frowned at them for not drinking closer to their own base. Why bother her in her happy little hamlet? Rey wanted to ask Chewie if they were a regular occurrence (as she hadn’t been in for over a month due to her ridiculous schedule), but he was helping Tom Hollins down at the other end, and Tom looked rather upset. Rey remembered that his wife had passed away unexpectedly a few months back, and made a note to herself to stop by the graveyard the following weekend to leave flowers at Sarah’s stone.

She drummed her fingers against the ancient mahogany, and continued to hum to herself, trying not to look over at the Americans. A man’s voice rang out in the pub, the others obviously hanging on to his words (and he was just far away enough that she couldn’t hear what he was saying, not that she wanted to know), and after he reached a pause, the men roared in laughter. Rey looked up, irate beyond measure now, and accidentally caught the eye of the speaker, a man with a familiar face.

Oh, bugger. It was the major from last month, the one she’d been entirely rude – almost cruel – to. God in Heaven, how she wished she could just forget their last meeting. Rey hadn’t been on her best behavior, and the last three weeks had calmly instructed her, the way time was wont to do, that she certainly had not been in the right with her treatment of the pilot.

_As soon as Leia called the meeting to a close, Rey stormed out the doors, not even waiting to shake hands with the infuriating brigadier general or his coterie of Yanks. And what a collection of insolent, boorish, impossible—_

_“Ma’am?” A man called out from behind her, rather loudly. Rey came to a halt and turned around. The handsome major was standing there, two feet away. He looked as surprised as she felt that he was actually addressing her._

_“Yes?” Rey clipped out the single syllable with more patience than she actually had. She wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, do the crossword, and fall asleep, for God’s sake. And whatever he was doing was an impediment to that plan._

_“Excuse me, ma’am, for hollerin’ at you like that. It’s just. I’m real sorry.”_

_“For what?” Rey asked, looking down to shuffle her files and avoid his eyes. They were intense, dark brown, and so open and wide, Rey had found herself getting lost in them. That was dangerous territory, especially when she didn’t know what he was trying to get at. “For your boss playing the arse? Or your friend’s absolutely shite display of driving this morning?” Her eyes flicked up to see his reaction._

_He started forward, mouth half-open, but Rey cut him off._

_“Because honestly, I don’t even know your name, and the fact that there are multiple things you could be apologizing for does not bode well, now does it?” She hummed when he couldn’t respond to that, and nodded at him firmly. “Right. Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in England.” Rey had walked off without another word._

Their last conversation had gone so poorly – it wasn’t much of a conversation, even, as he’d scarce gotten fifteen words in due to her ire – so she was surprised to see his face light up in recognition. Rey shivered to think he might come talk to her – she was unsure if she was hesitant to speak to him because she was prejudiced against Americans in particular, or if she was merely embarrassed for how rudely she’d dismissed him three weeks ago.

No. Regardless of the reason, she was not in the mood to talk to him, or anyone new and unfamiliar. She’d come for a drink and some stew, but she could get at least one of those things at home.

Rey waved forlornly to Chewie down the bar (and besides the food and drink, she’d come for some of his conversation. She found his guttural Scottish burr to be absolutely delightful, if hard to understand sometimes), pushed away from the bar, and walked right back out into the evening.

***

“C’mon Rey, live a little. It’s Friday night, and you’re twenty-two, for God’s sake.”

Rose Tico was insisting that they go out to celebrate the end of the week, and Rey just wanted to go home.

“Rose,” Rey moaned dramatically, draping herself against the gate at the edge of BP, hanging her weight off of it. “Rose, please. My _feet._ I feel like I’ve worn stockings for a week straight, even to bed.”

“Maybe you should sleep in the nude,” Rose suggested, shrugging. She winked at Rey, who shoved her playfully back. Rose was an incredibly talented computer programmer, the only decent American in history besides maybe that Abraham Lincoln fellow, and one of Rey’s closest friends.

Well, in all honesty, she only had two actual friends: Rose and Ben. And Ben Solo certainly was not going out for drinks tonight. Rey had caught a glimpse of him slamming his head repetitively against the side of a chalkboard after she’d gathered her things. He wasn’t slamming hard enough to hurt (yet), so she left a note for Leia to check in with him, and headed out the door. She’d tried to pull Ben away physically in the past, but the man was a giant, almost a hundred pounds heavier than she was, and it had ended in disaster.

(He had sat on her. Literally _sat_ on her. Wanker.)

Rose was not done with her argument. “Let’s go back to your place, get ready, you can put your feet up, and then we can at least go to The Falcon.”

“Fine,” Rey grumbled, snagging her bicycle out from the stand. “Only because I didn’t get to speak to Chewie when I went in the other day.”

“Why not?” Rose asked curiously, grabbing her bicycle.

“Long story,” Rey huffed, swinging her leg over the saddle. “And one I’d rather forget.”

“Fair enough!” Rose chortled, pushing off from the curb. “Race you back?”

“You just want me to re-do my hair,” Rey accused. That got a laugh and a gleeful _guilty!_ from her friend, and the girls raced down the lane, laughing wildly, and almost knocking over Dilly in their haste.

“Sorry!” Rose shouted at him. Dilly waved a hand dismissively and then smiled fondly before they pedaled around the corner. Rey grinned back and then whipped her head around to focus on the road before her.

She beat Rose by a split second, and they trundled up the steps, waving at the housekeeper, towards Rey’s flat. It was two darling rooms at the top of a home in the nearby village, and Rey loved her little space. She often felt strange that she didn’t live in the estate left to her, handed down through her mother’s family, but then she wouldn’t be able to work at Bletchley. Rey figured when the time came, she’d move back North, but for now, she was perfectly content to live off of her salary, rent a room, and live a normal life.

Rose collapsed onto Rey’s threadbare couch and tugged her stockings off, hard enough that one tore.

“You’re lucky you keep clothes here,” Rey scolded her, narrowly dodging the shoe thrown at her head. “Oi!”

“Sorry,” Rose said, not sounding apologetic in the least. She stuck a prim and proper tongue out at Rey, which she answered with a bird. The women dissolved into laughter, and Rose bounded over to the radio to play some music while Rey fixed them both a drink. “Hey, Andor,” Rose said, peering over the couch at her.

“Hmm?” Rey answered, opening her tumbler of whiskey. “What, Tico?”

“Let me do your hair!” Rose pouted at her, already anticipating the no.

Rey sighed heavily and slammed the glass back down. “I already agreed to go out. Next you’ll tell me you want me to wear make-up, too.”

Rose gave her a hopeful grin, and Rey was just tired enough to shrug and nod. The shrill scream of excitement from her friend was payment enough for the next hour of torment.

***

Rey was somehow convinced to wear a dark blue dress with a daring neckline – “it looks good on you, sweetie, with that collarbone!” Rose had insisted, to which Rey had asked, “there are good and bad collarbones?” – and her hair was arranged into Victory Rolls, which again, Rose had insisted on. The heels were absolutely rejected, and Rey had managed to convince Rose to let that go, under the argument that she didn’t want to loom over every man she met.

“We can’t all be tiny, adorable little creatures,” Rey had reminded her, patting the air on top of Rose’s head. Rose had rolled her eyes and tugged her out the door at that, Rey somehow stumbling even in her flats.

 Once they got to The Falcon, the pub was in full swing for the evening, Glenn Miller blasting over the radio, and a collection of girls from the park, and boys from the airfields packing the place.

“There’s a spot!” Rose said excitedly, pointing at a table. Rey craned her head, seeing if Ben had maybe made it out after all, and gave up after a minute, following her tiny friend to the available seating.

Chewie saw them walk in, luckily, and dropped off a couple pints without them having to order.

“Thank you!” Rey shouted at him, trying to be heard over the din of the pub. He roared something back in response, but between the background noise and his own thick accent, it sounded more like a garbled yell. Rey laughed and then looked around one last time –

Her heart pounded in her ears, and her face flushed.

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked, after Rey had diverted her eyes to the tabletop, her ears burning.

“That man,” she hissed. “I don’t know his name, but he’s sitting over at the bar. No! Don’t look—”

Too late. Rose turned and stared obviously at him. Rey didn’t have to look again to know that he was, as was common apparently, surrounded by other people. He was clearly a popular man, as none of the men seemed to be the same people from Monday.

“Major Dameron? What about him?” Rose said.

“Look away!” Rey hissed again, poking her in the arm. “Look – away-“ Rose finally obeyed, and Rey sighed in relief. “I don’t know him, but I saw him a few weeks ago at that meeting Leia asked me to sit in on.”

“And how did that go?” Rose asked, sounding like she already had an inkling of how it went.

“I mocked his boss in front of the entire room, and then I was awful to him when he tried to apologize for something that wasn’t even his fault.”

Rey looked back over at him- Major Dameron- and found herself admiring the way he looked in his uniform. It looked – well, it looked right. Some men looked silly in it, others looked pompous. He just looked natural, the coat hugging his broad shoulders, the belted waist highlighting his obviously impressive physique, the flare of the –

Good God, Rey Andor, pull yourself together.

“Yelling at someone trying to be nice to you. Huh. That seems to be a pattern for you when you talk to attractive men,” Rose said, obviously amused.

“Yes, obviously, and now I can never speak to him again,” Rey snapped, and then sighed and changed the subject.

They chatted idly for ten minutes, but Rey found her attention drifting over to the major time and again. Eventually, she was called out on it.

“If you’ve sworn him off forever, why do you keep staring at him?” Rose asked. Rey blushed for having been caught.

“It’s just - I didn’t know they made Americans like that.” She shifted in her seat, biting her lip, trying not to crane her neck to look at him some more.

“They do when they’re from Cuba. Lisa down in the secretary pool said he speaks Spanish.” Rose winked salaciously, and Rey nudged her under the table so she wouldn’t giggle.

“And how would she know something like that?” Rey asked. Unable to stop herself anymore, she turned and watched the major throw his head back and laugh, his throat exposed while he clapped a friend on the shoulder.

“Two guesses.” Rose giggled then, and Rey joined her. She must have laughed louder than she intended, for Major Dameron’s head whipped around quickly at the sound; he locked eyes with her before she could look away, and she found herself frozen in his gaze.

“Uh-oh,” Rose sang, already gathering her drink. “Looks like he’s coming over to talk to you.” Sure enough, the pilot stood and waved his buddies off, stepping out of their booth to walk in their direction.

“Don’t leave me,” Rey begged desperately, grabbing Rose’s wrist.

“Good luck!” Rose winked again, waved at the major, and started to walk towards a group of RAF pilots. “I’m going to go try and catch me my own pilot.”

Rey scowled at her friend. Loyalty, it seemed, was just as much in short supply in this war as any other resource. Rey scrambled to grab her bag and get away from the table before Major Dameron arrived, but she was stopped by a low, warm, attractive voice.

“Is this seat taken, ma’am?”

Rey blushed, again, and looked up guiltily. “No,” she said, unable to lie. “No, my friend excused herself.” He stood there, looking at her patiently, and Rey sighed. Of course he had to be polite. “Would you like to sit?” She offered through gritted teeth, waving a hand at the empty chair.

“I’d love to,” he said, sitting down and smoothing out the front of his uniform. “I’m Poe, by the way.” A broad hand with obvious callouses reached across the table.

An interesting first name. But, then again, she had one too. “My name is Rey,” she said, taking his hand and shaking three times firmly, trying not to admire the roughness of his palms, the warmth of his skin. “Rey Andor.”

“I know,” he sound, laughing warmly. Rey gave him an odd look. “Sorry. I uh – I asked around about you.”

“You did, did you?” Rey asked, arching a brow at him. “What, you went around and asked people who the girl with the bad temper was?”

“Something like that,” Poe said, nodding his head. His smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way Rey refused to be distracted by. “Actually, I just asked for the name of the best codebreaker at Bletchley. Put two and two together on my own.”

“Mhm,” Rey said, feeling slightly mollified, but still embarrassed. “I am truly, truly sorry for how cross I was with you back in May. I was having a bad day, and you were just trying to be polite.”

“Apology accepted,” Poe said, his smile not lessening. Rey shifted under the intensity of his gaze, and wondered if it was always this direct, this commanding. It made her feel oddly exposed. “Not that you needed to apologize. My boss _is_ an arse, and my buddy really is shit at driving.”

Rey snorted despite her better judgment – a real, true snort of laughter. She covered her mouth in horror, and Poe’s laughter boomed out in response. “That’s a hell of a laugh,” he said, reaching across the table to tug her wrist out of the way. “Don’t hide it.”

“It’s awful,” Rey muttered. He released her wrist quickly, obviously aware of the impropriety. He settled back in his chair and grinned at her cheekily.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Sounds like sunshine.” Rey shifted again, wondering if he knew how wrong-footed he was making her feel. He probably did, judging by the smirk on his handsome face. “God knows I could use some more sunshine in this place.”

“The weather’s been quite fair recently,” Rey argued, always ready to defend England and its melancholy climate. “It’s only rained ten times this month.”

“It’s only the fifteenth day of the month,” Poe laughed wonderingly, and Rey didn’t adjust her expression as she gazed back at him. He quieted down and smiled at her, a little less sure of himself. “Can I tell you something?”

“It depends,” Rey said, tapping her hand against the table. “What is it? Is it something bad? I don’t really like to hear bad news.”

“Who does?” Poe said, his gaze distant for a second. He shook his head and his gazed cleared. “But no, not bad. Maybe embarrassing for me. You see, Miss Andor, I spotted you before you ran out the door the other day. And then I came here every night this week, hoping to get another glimpse of you.”

 _What?_ His gaze was still open, sincere. There was no way he was lying.

“I don’t know if that’s meant to be flattering, or threatening.” Rey patted her handbag thoughtfully. “But I should warn you, I am armed.” It was only half-cheek.

“I had a feeling you’d be packing, sweetheart.” His grin was nothing short of lecherous this time, and it made Rey’s infamous Erso temper flare up. She snorted and pushed away from the table, but was stopped when he ducked in front of her, half-out of his seat as well, chagrined, hands raised. “Sorry! God, I’m sorry. Not used to talking to smart people is all.”

“The fact that you are not well versed in speaking to intelligent women is hardly a positive comment on your character, Major.” Rey regarded him coolly. They both stood up straight and stared at each other. Distantly, she wondered why she didn’t just knock him onto his arse. He certainly deserved it, being so familiar despite having just introduced himself.

“That’s just it,” the man laughed awkwardly, and rubbed the back of his neck. It was oddly endearing, and Rey felt her temper cool somewhat. “I don’t just mean ladies. I mean – I’m a pilot, right? And I’ve spent all my time around pilots the last few years, and pilots have to be real good at math and physics and navigation, but then we’re real stupid at everything else, including common sense.”

“That’s apparent.” Rey sat back down, willing to give him another chance, for some unknown reason. The major looked relieved, and he sat back down after she was fully settled.

“Honestly, I think you’re the most clever woman I’ve ever met,” he said, frowning thoughtfully. “And beautiful to boot. It’s a little intimidating.”

An oddly phrased compliment, but Rey found it all the more endearing for its strangeness.

“There are 9000 women at Bletchley, Major Dameron,” Rey said serenely, taking a sip of her pint, refusing to bat an eye. “All of them clever, most of them pretty. I’m sure you could find another one exactly like me.”

“I doubt that,” he said, strangely earnest as always. “I don’t think there’s another woman like you in the galaxy.” When she blushed and didn’t respond, he plowed forward. “The way you solved that code in your head – the boys have been talking about that for weeks. I think you scared the shit – pardon my French – out of Ralter. God, wish I coulda taken a picture of his face when you spelled out the message like that. You were absolutely incredible.”

The way Poe Dameron looked at her, she might actually believe him.

“If you’re going to sit there and compliment me, we might as well get another round of drinks,” Rey said, smirking at his blustered, thrilled response, and she signaled to Chewie.

***

They ended up talking for almost an hour, by which point even Rose had called it an evening. Rey watched her walk out of the pub, arm in arm with a RAF airman, and Rose had given her an encouraging hand signal to keep talking to Poe Dameron. Rey didn’t really need encouragement at this point, but she was happy to have Rose’s blessing.

“Well,” Rey sighed, leaning over to check Poe’s watch. An odd thrill passed through her, from her fingertips, up her arm, and into her gut, when her hand brushed against the skin of his wrist. His fingers twitched under her forearm as she examined the timepiece. “I’m afraid I need to be getting to bed, Major.”

 “Can I walk you home?” He asked, hopefully. She didn’t think he meant anything untoward in the suggestion, so her smile was kind, not cruel.

“No thank you, Major Dameron. I can find my way very well by now. And, like I said,” she reluctantly pulled away from him and patted her handbag meaningfully. “You’ll find that I can handle myself.”

“I bet you can.” On any other man, Rey believed that the phrase would have been suggestive, uncouth. But he looks admiringly at her, impressed and a little awed, and it made her feel somehow powerful, in a way she’d never felt before. “Will I see you here tomorrow night?”

Rey gathered her coat and stood from the table, stretching imperceptibly. They’d been sitting for so long.

“Perhaps,” she allowed, smiling briefly before schooling her features into something stern. “You’ll have to find out, I suppose.”

“Suppose I will.” Major Dameron stood up and offered her his hand again. She shook it, and she was pleased to find that his grip was just as strong and pleasant the second time. “It was a genuine pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“It was lovely to meet you as well.” She meant it. She really meant it, and that was so strange, how much she meant it, how reluctant she was to leave the bar and the warm bubble that had wrapped around her and this handsome American. “Goodnight, Major Dameron.”

She turned and walked away, but paused when he called after her. “And ma’am,” she looked at him appraisingly, raising her eyebrows at the ornery grin on his face. “I’ll take it as flattering you already knew my last name. Considering I never gave it to you.” He winked broadly at her and then turned and walked towards his friends.

“Bastard,” Rey muttered, blushing furiously. She smiled nonetheless when he looked over his shoulder at her, smiled when his eyes widened at having been caught in trying to catch another glimpse of her.

Flattering, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay Tuned for the Next Chapter of Our Story: "Sunday, Monday, or Always"
> 
> After he fails to make their second meeting, Rey Andor doubts Major Dameron's reliability. (But never fear, Major Poe Dameron continues to be smitten with our plucky codebreaker)


	3. Sunday, Monday, Or Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey goes about her Saturday as normally as possible while waiting to meet up with Poe at The Falcon. However, he's suspiciously absent when she arrives; but, meeting a new, interesting person distracts her from the missing major.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (there's probably so little historical accuracy here - Poe has to 'cover' a flight for someone over the continent, which would probably not fall on him as he trained pilots at RAF Cheddington, but bear with me here as we use it to prolong that sweet, sweet 1940s slow burn).
> 
> Also, chapter title comes from the Bing Crosby song, [if you want to listen to it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5KZfKWheTg) to fully embrace the pining mess of Poe Dameron.

Rey found it easier than ever to get out of bed the following morning; she slept in on Saturdays until at least eight, but that morning she was up with the sun, puttering around her flat and humming to herself. With a blush, she realized it was the song that had been playing when Major Dameron sat down next to her in the pub; Rey shook her head as she cleaned up her living room and got started on some baking, trying to clear it of the tune.

And if her cheeks were pinker than normal when she looked in the mirror before getting dressed, well. Maybe she was coming down with a cold.

Rey had a plan for today – one that didn’t involve swooning and sighing around her flat until it was time to possibly, _possibly_ meet up with the major at The Falcon – and she put together a basket of fresh scones and jam before heading out the door. She settled the basket carefully against the handlebars of her bicycle, and headed northwest, eventually climbing up a hill and away from the rest of the village. The clear June morning offered fresh air and the promise of rain later, judging by the clouds on the horizon; that would have some effect on whether or not she dragged herself from her safe and warm bedroom all the way down to the pub.

When she reached the fork she would usually turn right onto to head into Bletchley, she turned left instead, the smooth grass and pretty trees giving way to a thicket, wild and overgrown. Rey personally preferred this to the cultivated smooth lawns typical of civilized England, and as she flew down the lane towards her destination, she spotted a collection of deer, a mother and her fawns, grazing in the distance. Her smile was bittersweet when she turned the final corner; a cottage at the end of the lane appeared, semi-obscured by a growth of large bushes. When she came to a stop, Rey left her bicycle propped up against the overgrowth and walked up to the front door, holding the basket in front of her like a shield.

“Hello?” She said, knocking on the door firmly.

“Who’s there?”

“Food!” Rey answered, the same answer she’d give when she was five and her mama and papa would bring her by to visit.

“Well then, child, come right in!”

Rey laughed and opened the door, and was immediately tugged down into a hug. Rey hugged the tiny woman back and smiled at the familiar smell of cinnamon and gardenias.

“Hello, Maz,” Rey stood up straight and beamed down at the shriveled former codebreaker. Maz adjusted her Coke bottle glasses and smiled up at her.

“Come in, come in,” she said, waving her hand at Rey and tottering towards the kitchen. “And bring that bread, would you? Tell me, how’s my boyfriend?”

“Chewie?” Rey laughed again as she followed Maz deeper into the cottage. “He’s grown his beard out again. Not that you’d be interested in _that_ detail.”

“I do love a bearded man,” Maz sighed dramatically and pulled out a chair seemingly from nowhere for Rey. “Are you hungry?”

“Always,” Rey confirmed, settling down. Maz grabbed the kettle – even though they never had a regular time on Saturdays, Maz was always ready with a hot cup of tea when she arrived – and poured them both a hearty measure of liquid. Rey took hers black, as always, and Maz lumped in enough sugar to make even Rey’s teeth ache. Next came a large plate of eggs, tomatoes, bacon, and potatoes, and Rey took out a scone for each of them, setting the jam on the table.

“This should be enough,” Maz said, hopping up into her own chair. “But I do have extra if you’re still hungry.” Rey snorted because she usually ate one serving, and Maz usually ate three. It was a marvel where she put it though. “Tell me about work, child.”

“It’s going as well as to be expected.” Rey sighed, and Maz nodded seemingly in understanding. Rey couldn’t really divulge many details about her position or about her week, but Maz understood as she’d worked for British Intelligence for decades. If anyone alive understood the garbage Rey had to go through, it was Maz Kanata and Leia Organa; and coincidentally, they were two of her idols. “You would not believe what one man tried this week.”

“Did he call you little lady?” Maz sighed while she reached for more jam. “They always seem to think that’s a compliment.”

“Well, given that I was taller than he was, little lady would have been an absurdity.” Rey frowned at the table. “No, he tried to question my math, and when I corrected him, probably a little sharper than I should have, he inquired after my menstrual cycle.”

“Oh, my favorite,” Maz said sardonically. “What’d you do to him?”

“Well, right before I was about to follow through on knocking his teeth in, Ben said, in that voice of his,” and Rey pitched her voice down to match Ben’s baritone, “ _why, John, you should know when it is, as it’s synced up with yours_.”

“He didn’t,” Maz gasped and then laughed. “I knew I liked that little Solo boy. Moody as a child, but that often lends itself to great humor in adulthood.”

Rey nodded in agreement and then grinned. “ _Little_ Solo boy? Was there a time in Ben’s life where he was _short_?”

“He didn’t hit his growth spurt until he was sixteen,” Maz said gleefully. “You should have seen those ears on him then!”

They chortled about Ben’s tiny stature in youth a little longer, but after a few minutes, Maz squinted over at Rey. She leaned over the table, almost lying down on top of it, and looked into Rey’s face. Because she was absolutely used to this kind of odd behavior in Maz, Rey just smiled politely back and waited for her to say something.

“So,” Maz sat back down and adjusted her specs. “Who’s the boy?”

“What?” Rey blushed and dropped her gaze to the table. “What do you mean?”

“The boy who you met, I’m assuming since the last time I saw you.” Maz smiled at her kindly, and Rey’s blushed deepened, obviously enough of a confirmation for her friend. “I see your eyes, girl. If you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people. And your eyes look precisely like your mother’s, after she met your father.”

“Mama hated papa at first.” Rey frowned at Maz. “Couldn’t stand him.”

“Mhm,” Maz hummed and pursed her lips disbelievingly. “You should have seen her. Jyn was wild for Cassian from the start – he was the first person who encouraged her to care about something after her father’s death. They butted heads, to be sure, but from the beginning there was an understanding between them that was unparalleled. And, passionate love can often disguise itself as anger or even dislike. So, tell me sweet girl; who’s the boy?”

“His name is Poe,” Rey whispered, staring out the window because it was easier than looking into Maz’s eyes, that had already seen too much. “He’s a pilot, and I shouldn’t want to see him again, but it’s almost all I can think about.”

***

Rey held back on walking to The Falcon until half an hour after sundown. As she entered the bar, her eyes flicked over immediately to the crowd of pilots in the corner – one pilot was conspicuously missing from the gathering, and she tried not to let disappointment overcome her. He could just be using the facilities, she reasoned. No need to get upset.

She made idle small talk with Chewie, who was getting over a cold and was even more bizarrely incomprehensible than usual; after ten minutes, she realized that Major Dameron wasn’t there.

“Did you see someone earlier in the night who was looking for me?” She asked the bartender, hating herself slightly for needing to ask the question.

Chewie growled a no, offered her a quick smile, and headed down the bar to deal with a patron who was shouting about a woman who’d left him.

Rey sighed and cast her eyes around the bar, not wanting to walk out on the off-chance that Dameron would show up later, but also not wanting to wait around on her own, pathetically. Rey Andor, waiting on a boy. What had the world come to?

As if hearing her internal plea, the universe answered with the sudden arrival of Ben Solo. He spotted her and waved before heading over to an empty booth. Rey collected her pint and walked over to join him.

“Can I sit with you?” Rey asked, her attention drifting to the door even as she spoke to her friend.

“Waiting for someone better?” Ben asked, smirking at her.

“Maybe,” Rey allowed. “A man asked me to meet him here tonight. Hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Major Dameron?” Ben guessed, and Rey stared at him in surprise. Ben was, perhaps, the smartest person alive, but that was just uncanny.

“How did you know?” She asked as they settled in across from each other.

“The man’s obsessed with you,” Ben shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “He’d been completely daydreaming during that meeting – he hadn’t blinked in over ten minutes before you walked in. Dameron looked like you’d brought him a pile of jewels, not a pot of coffee. And, I bumped into him a week ago, and he asked after you. Knew your name and everything.”

“You talked to him about me?” Rey asked sharply, not adding the _and you didn’t tell me?_ as she didn’t want to draw attention to how interested she was in Major Dameron asking around about her.

“Briefly,” Ben said, smiling at her finally. “Not in detail, but enough to suggest to him that you were entirely too smart for him. He already seemed to know that, though.”

“Ben!” Rey hissed, but her friend was distracted by a person who’d walked up to their table. Rey looked up as well, and saw that the newcomer was an incredibly attractive man with flaming red hair and piercing blue eyes. Ben was already blushing, and the stranger hadn’t spoken yet.

 “Hello,” the man cleared his throat and looked between them oddly. “Would you mind if I joined you?” Rey frowned at Ben, trying to communicate with her eyes – but Ben was staring, absolutely moonstruck, up at the man.

“Please,” Rey said sweetly, amused at Ben’s reaction, but a little worried that the growing silence would draw attention to Ben’s sudden infatuation. “Have a seat.” She scooted in to make room for the man, but he went to sit next to Ben.

Interesting.

He settled in and smiled first at Rey, and then over at Ben. Rey noted that his smile shifted slightly, became slightly more nervous, when it was directed at Ben. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so worried if this man noticed Ben’s reaction to him.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, and Rey realized just how posh his accent was around the same time he stuck his hand out, and she saw the kind of timepiece he was wearing. “My name is Armitage Hux.”

“Hux?” Rey repeated, faintly. “As in, Brandon Hux, the baronet?”

Armitage blushed and ducked his head. “That would be my father, yes.” He seemed uncomfortable at that line of conversation, so Rey remembered to finish the introductions.

“Well, I’m Rey Andor, and this is Benjamin Solo.” She nodded towards her still-silent companion, and Ben made a vaguely communicative grunting noise before smiling at Armitage. Thank the good Lord Ben was pretty, or this would be a total disaster.

“Benjamin Solo,” Armitage said slowly, drawing out the syllables in Ben’s first name. “Any relation to Han?”

Ben nodded, smiling ruefully. “My father,” he said, voice coming out hoarse and dry. He coughed once, awkwardly, and Rey nudged him under the table with her foot, earning her a retaliatory kick.

“And what do you do, Ben?” Armitage asked, smiling at him intently.

“Math?” Ben said. Rey rolled her eyes. “Rey does math, too.”

“Two mathematicians,” Armitage laughed delightedly. “No wonder you’re so quiet. I imagine your head is full of figures, no room for words.”

“You’d be right,” Ben said, studying his massive hands, a blush creeping up his neck. Rey noticed it immediately, and she saw that Armitage did too, his eyes lingering perhaps a little longer than was proper. “And what do you do, Armitage?”

“I sit in pubs and try to find good people to talk to,” he said lazily, stretching almost like a cat and resting his left elbow on the table, dropping his chin into his hand. “And I think I did quite well for myself tonight.” He winked at Rey, and then smiled genuinely at Ben. “Tell me about your studies. Did you always want to do math?” He said the word with great distaste, which made Rey snort into her drink. She watched Hux slowly draw conversation out of Ben, and she watched her friend blush and grow less and less nervous under the direct attention of their new friend.

Armitage Hux obviously was pleased by the change in pace for their conversation, and within an hour, they made plans to meet up for dinner on Monday.

“And Miss Andor too, of course,” Armitage said, smiling pleasantly at Rey. “She’ll be joining us?”

“Of course,” Rey said, tapping her nails on the table. “I imagine you two will need a chaperone. To keep you out of trouble.” She said the last part for any listening ears; she said the first part to relay to Armitage that she understood _precisely_ what he intended with her Ben. Armitage blushed for the first time this evening, and excused himself.

Ben stared after him as he left, and Rey checked the time, sighing. “We should get going too,” she said.

“I’m sorry Major Dameron didn’t show,” Ben said as they climbed out of the booth.

“Don’t be,” Rey shrugged. “Maybe he forgot.”

“Only an idiot could forget about you,” Ben said sternly, holding the door open for her. A smile played at his mouth even through his concern for her, and Rey smiled knowing that he’d had a pleasant evening, even if her own romantic hopes were dashed. Served her right for even having romantic hopes. Lesson learned.

Ben and Rey walked out into the cool night air, and Rey hummed quietly to herself, ignoring the twinge in her heart; she kept sneaking glances over at Ben, who was even more thoughtful than usual. She opened her mouth to ask him a question as they neared the end of the street, but a voice called out from behind them.

“Miss Andor?”

Rey turned around, frowning, her hand going to her purse where the pistol was tucked neatly away.

“Yes?” She asked, squinting into the darkness.

A large, bearded man was walking towards them, a nervous look on his face. His hands were out of his pockets, though, and he was wearing a USAAF uniform, so Rey relaxed somewhat.

“Major Dameron wanted me to speak to you, ma’am,” he said, and Rey rolled her eyes.

“I imagine he forgot he had a date lined up for Saturday?” Rey asked, arching her eyebrow. “Forgot to check his calendar?”

“No ma’am,” he laughed awkwardly and came to a stop in front of her. Ben had ambled on without her, but when she looked over her shoulder, she saw him loitering about fifteen feet away. She turned back to the American, who saluted at her. “Lieutenant Wexley, at your service,” he said.

“At ease,” Rey said, smiling despite herself. “I’m not really a person you need to salute.”

“I beg to differ,” Wexley laughed, an easy and cheerful sound that almost lit up the night. Rey smiled more at that, and then he coughed and then held up his large hand, an envelope clutched in it. “Major Dameron had to cover a flight, ma’am. Last minute. He won’t be back for a week, and he wanted me to give this to you.”

“Oh?” Rey wasn’t sure if she wanted to take it. If she took it, that would indicate an interest in what it had to say. And she had that interest, definitely, but did she want Major Dameron to _know_ she had that interest?

“Please read it, Miss Andor,” Lieutenant Wexley begged, holding the letter out to her. Rey took it reluctantly. “It’s desperate, you see. The man was singing Crosby last night. Loudly. Wouldn’t stop.”

“Crosby?” Rey smirked and weighed the envelope in her hand. “That does sound desperate.”

“Not even the good stuff. _Won’t you tell me when, we will meet again_.” Wexley raised his hands in the air and swayed in an imitation of a waltz while singing off-key. It was highly endearing. “He danced with a broom, ma’am. Quite the spectacle for the rest of us.”

Rey laughed in spite of herself, flattered and mollified that she’d had a lasting effect on the handsome pilot, and Lieutenant Wexley laughed too, ducking his head. He had a nice face, Rey decided, and kind eyes. He seemed like a good sort of fellow. She noticed the band of gold on his hand, and smiled at that as well.

“Are you married, Lieutenant?”

“Trying to steal me away?” He winked at her, and she wasn’t even irritated by the familiarity. The jocularity seemed fitting on him – almost as if she should be more insulted if he hadn’t teased her. Rey waited patiently, and sure enough, the lieutenant fiddled with his ring and smiled. “Married for seven years. She’s a nurse.” The look of pride on his face was almost overwhelming. “One of the first to sign up. She saves more people every day than I ever will. My Karoline is a real hero.”

“She sounds like it,” Rey agreed. She spotted Ben shuffling his feet under the lamppost, and decided it was time to head home. “I really should be going,” she said, tapping the letter against her hand. “I will read this, though.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Wexley sighed with relief. “Seriously, Miss Andor, this will go a long way in getting the major to calm down.”

 “Please, call me Rey,” she said quickly. “And I’m happy to be of service.”

“Rey,” Wexley nodded. “I’ll call you Rey, if you call me Snap. Everyone else does.”

“Deal.” They shook gamely, and Rey laughed again when he bowed ridiculously low and wished her goodnight.

Rey waved in farewell, and walked over to Ben, slipping her hand through his elbow.

“Well?” Ben drawled as they walked down the darkened street towards her flat. “Do I need to fight Dameron?”

“No,” Rey said. “No, he had to cover a flight. He wrote me a letter.”

“That’s probably for the best.” Ben yawned dramatically. “I don’t much feel like driving, and I couldn’t very well walk to Cheddington. Much more difficult to knock sense into someone from fifteen miles away.”

“You’d find a way,” Rey reassured him. They were alone on the street, so she nudged Ben with her elbow. “Enough about the major. What did you think of our new acquaintance?” Even in the isolated darkness, she hesitated in using Armitage’s name, or any gender identifying pronouns. When you worked in intelligence, you guarded potentially damaging information carefully.

“I found them to be very agreeable,” Ben supplied, and said nothing more.

Rey rolled her eyes mightily. “Agreeable,” she repeated with a sigh. “Is that what we’re calling people who are really absurdly good-looking these days?”

“Were they good-looking?” Ben raised an eyebrow and hummed to himself, the light of the nearest streetlight casting the lines of expressive face into sharp relief. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You,” Rey said with extreme dignity, “Are absolutely useless.”

***

Rey managed to wait a grand total of twenty-three minutes when she walked in the door before she slit the envelope opened and settled down at her desk to read the letter.

The handwriting was strong but nothing fancy; it was almost endearing, how carefully each letter was formed. It reminded her of lessons in grammar school when they’d had to trace the letters over and over again to get them perfectly formed. The cursive was without embellishment, but it was strangely nice to look at all the same. Rey shook her head – _don’t get distracted by the handwriting,_ she scolded herself, _read the damn thing_ – and shook the letter out entirely.

_Dear Miss Andor,_

_Let me start off by saying that it’s almost embarrassing trying to figure out how to write this to you. How do you write a letter to the smartest person alive? I shoulda paid more attention in high school, actually taken those vocabulary lessons more serious. I should pepper in some “redolent”s and “magnanimous”s so you think I’m actually real smart._

_By the time this letter reaches you, I’m sure I’ll be flying over the occupied continent. I hope the flight goes well (who wouldn’t), but mostly I hope I’ll be able to focus for even a second when I’m up in the air. Ever since I met you, it’s like there’s been a song stuck in my head that I can’t quite shake. I don’t know the words to it, and I’m not even sure if it’s a real song, but it’s more of a feeling that something’s fallen into place, and the world’s agreeing with me._

_Now, you probably think I’m crazy, and that wouldn’t be the first or last time in my life someone thought that, but I don’t much see the point in lying, so there it is. I regret that I didn’t get to see what you look like on a Saturday night, and I wonder if it’ll haunt me for the next two weeks, trying to figure out what color you were wearing, what dress you woulda worn to the bar – or even if you’d shown up. Maybe you didn’t show up, and Snap (sorry, Wexley, the poor sap I convinced to give this to you) had to chase you down in the street days later to beg you to read this. Even if that’s the case, I bet you looked real pretty standing me up._

_I am real sorry, more than you know, that I couldn’t be there for our date. I’m not usually a guy who fails to follow through, and I don’t like the idea that you’d walk through the world not thinking of me as reliable. Because I am reliable, and there’s no place I’d rather be than at your side, getting to know you a little more, getting to hear that incredible laugh of yours._

_I hope you’ll let me bother you for some of your time when I get back. This is a mopey country, Miss Andor, and I’m from Miami, where it’s sunny almost every day. And you’re the closest thing to real sunshine that I’ve found._

_My best regards,_

_Maj. Poe Dameron_

Rey, with her perfect memory, read the letter three times before she shut off the light and went to bed. She tossed and turned for a while before she drifted off to sleep, thinking of brown eyes, warm hands, and Bing Crosby playing on the radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, work was Hell! 
> 
> Thank you for putting up with me and this semi-slow burn
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Poe and Rey meet at a dance hall. 
> 
> (And maybe, just maybe, Rey accepts his offer to dance)


	4. Moonlight Cocktail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a busy week at work, Rey meets Major Dameron again, and he asks her to dance. She reluctantly accepts, unsure of what to do with her growing feelings for the pilot; they get to know each other a little more, and Poe makes a daring request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We learn some of Rey and Poe's background in this chapter; they talk for a long time and get to know each other, with a little less teasing on Rey's part.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter title is [Moonlight Cocktail](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_e42mD7OW4U), and it's the song I imagine Poe and Rey dancing to before they sit down and talk. (It's so dreamy)

Rey was loath to admit that by Monday morning, Major Dameron’s letter had been unfolded, read, re-folded, tucked away safely, taken back out, unfolded, and read, more times than she could possibly count. She’d never gotten a letter from a man who had a clear interest in her before; she often scared them away before they could pluck up the courage to ask her on a date.

And here she was, with a letter from a man she’d spent less than an hour with, who was making bold yet sweet declarations of the depths of his feelings for her in a way that managed to be both sweet and odd. But at 0700, Rey put it away for the time being, straightened her blouse, and marched out the door without a further thought to pilots with brown eyes.

Well, maybe she spared a few thoughts to him throughout the week.

For instance, on Tuesday when she sat on the conference table while Ben Solo banged his head (a worrisome habit, to be sure), rhythmically against the chalkboard.

“I don’t see why it doesn’t work,” he snarled. The chalk in his hand crumbled into pieces, and Rey made a soothing noise in her throat.

“We just need to approach it from a different angle,” she said. “You’re holding onto your first draft too much. We already decided that configuration didn’t work, but what if we burnt it and started from scratch?”

Ben sighed and dropped into a free chair, burying his head in his hands. “I know you’re right,” he grumbled. “Just. Give me a minute.”

“Do you want me to call Dilly in here?” Rey asked, starting to slide off the table.

“No!” Ben said loudly, shaking his head but not lifting it. “I can do it – just – give me a few minutes, Andor.” Rey hummed in agreement and drifted off into a world that was typically dominated by numbers and clever ideas.

She was just thinking of an anagram for popular singers’ names, when of course her mind went to Bing Crosby, and from there it went to the song Snap referred to when giving her the letter; it was only natural her mind skipped to the letter, and then out of natural curiosity, she saw how quickly she could form the letters of his name in an ordinal fashion using words from the letter, and was pleased she could do so by the fourth sentence –

 **_“P_ ** _epper in s **o** m **e** “re **d** olent”s **a** nd “ **m** agnanimous”s so you think I’m actually r **e** al sma **r** t. _

_By the time this letter reaches y **o** u, I’m sure I’ll be flyi **n** g over the occupied continent.”_

Rey kicked her bare feet in victory as she tapped her hands against the wood of the table, humming softly to herself, humming Bing Crosby and Glenn Miller, and anything else that came to mind. It wouldn’t bother Ben – if she had a strange world living inside her head, Ben had an entire galaxy. She didn’t envy him for it – he had more difficulty walking in reality than she did as a result of his passionate exploration of imaginary places constructed of figures and ideas that weren’t fully possible.

When Ben hadn’t lifted his head ten minutes later, Rey stood up and took up a piece of yellow chalk on her own. She tilted her head to the side, studied the tenth through twentieth equations in the cascade, and made a series of adjustments. She didn’t erase what was below, in case Ben was upset by it, but she wrote over them with the different colour as a suggestion.

The deep voice of her friend boomed behind her, and she startled guiltily.

“Careful, Andor, or I’ll be out of a job.”

“Does it work?” Rey asked, stepping back.

“Not quite,” Ben stood next to her, his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled to the elbow, his hands jammed in his front pockets. He frowned up at the board, but it wasn’t an angry frown. “But it’s a start.”

***

Rey found herself at the Falcon on Friday night again, this time in a pink blouse and brown skirt. When a fast song came on the radio, Rose dragged her up from the table, ignoring Rey’s pleas to remain seated – her feet really did hurt – and started up a ridiculous jig.

“That’s not even a dance,” Rey protested.

“Don’t care!” Rose shouted back. “Come on, have some fun!” Rey took Rose’s offered hands and allowed her to swing her around the pub; Chewie shouted some garbled praise – it honestly could have been an insult – and Rey waved at him, laughing. Eventually, Rose gave up even the appearance of organized dancing, and just spun Rey in dizzying circles. Rey flew along willingly enough, ignoring the crowd that filled the pub and had just barely left enough space for the ten people dancing, laughing hard enough to hurt, and Rose released her at the end of the song.

Rey stumbled, still slightly spinning, right into the edge of the crowd. She bumped up against a solid body, and clutched an arm while she gasped for breath.

“So- sorry!” she panted, the world still tilted at an angle from Rose’s spins. The person she’d run into grabbed her upper arms firmly and helped to right her. “My friend – I didn’t mean –“

“You looked like you were having fun, ma’am, not to worry.” The voice was terribly, _terribly_ familiar – she’d only heard it just last night, in a dream.

“Oh,” Rey gasped, face flooding with embarrassment. “Major Dameron, I’m so sorry!” She’d fallen right into him, like a clumsy child, _what ever did he think of her_ –

Major Dameron was laughing, but not unkindly. “Please, stop apologizing. Even if you did step on my foot.” He winked at her, and she realized he was joking.

“Thank you for catching me,” Rey mumbled, mortified. “I’m going to go this way now,” she pointed aimlessly over his shoulder and started to move.

Poe held a hand up in her path, and she stopped. For whatever reason, she stopped. If any other man tried that, he wouldn’t walk straight for a week. Major Dameron did that, and she stopped and waited patiently. _What on earth has come over me?_ she wondered.

“I was wondering,” and he rubbed the back of his neck. Rey stared at him in surprise – it looked like a motion born of shyness. She didn’t think of the major, always surrounded by other people, always laughing, always charming, could be shy. But, here he was. “If you would do me the honor of the next dance.”

The radio host announced the next song, and Rey thought of a million and one reasons she should say no. She even remembered to say one of them aloud:

“I don’t really know how to dance,” she said, disappointed in that fact.

Major Dameron held a hand out to her. “All the same,” he said. “I’d like to dance with you. If that’s alright.”

Rey took his hand and let him lead her back out onto the floor.

It was a thankfully much slower song, and Rey smiled in recognition of it. It was peaceful, not quite a waltz, but she forgot about the importance of classification for a moment when Poe’s hand came to rest on her waist – and she smiled again at the obvious hesitance he displayed, the time he gave her to knock his hand away – and the hand still holding hers came up between their shoulders.

“Just don’t lock your hips,” the pilot said. And then he turned bright red. “Sorry – I – it just –“

“It’s good advice, Major Dameron,” Rey assured him, and he ducked his head again. They swayed together, the major with a much more natural ability to keep his feet moving in time with the music, but Rey stopped worrying about her own floundering when she saw how bright his eyes were.

She really did step on his toes at one point, and she hastily stammered an apology.

“Don’t worry about it, please,” Major Dameron said quickly. “Trust me, this is – I hope it’s not an impertinence, ma’am, but this is the nicest five minutes of my life so far.”

Rey blushed and stepped in a little closer, one of her feet between his now, and the other on the outside of his right. Major Dameron’s back seemed to get a little straighter, his hold on her hand a little tighter, and if she didn’t know any better, she could have sworn he sighed. In contentment? In anxiety? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to break the spell to ask.

They drifted along together, and Rey fought the urge to rest her head on his shoulder. He was only a little taller than herself, but that made the dancing easier – she found herself wishing she knew him well enough to nestle in with her nose close to his neck, the way she saw some girls dance with their sweethearts on Saturday nights. She wondered what his neck might smell like, and she blushed furiously at the idea.

Major Dameron thankfully missed her dilemma, as he was looking over her shoulder, singing along to the radio under his breath. Rey stepped as close as she dared, the major’s hand slightly tightening on her waist, nothing to be uncomfortable or untoward, and she found herself sad that the song ended, the way all songs do.

“Do you want to get a drink?” Rey asked before she could stop herself.

“That would be lovely, ma’am,” Major Dameron answered. He didn’t take her hand again as they walked towards an empty table, but he did pull her chair out for her and help her push it back in. “What are you drinking?” He asked, and Rey gave a noncommittal answer (truthfully, she drank whatever was cheapest, so she could drink a lot of it). He grinned at her and came back six minutes later with two pints of the nicest beer on tap. “Chewie said this was your favorite?”

“He shouldn’t have,” Rey sighed, but she took the offered glass all the same. “Thank you, Major Dameron.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled at her, and they took a moment to just sit and drink. Rey noted that his body turned towards her naturally; even across the table, he angled his body to see her better, and his leg stretched out to almost her side.

“So, Major Dameron,” Rey said after their brief silence. “What made you want to be a pilot?”

He laughed. “Two things: one, I was good at it, and two, my mother woulda approved of it.”

“Really?” Rey smiled back at him, encouragingly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I wasn’t great at some stuff in high school, but I was a fast runner, which got me noticed. And I was good at math and science. Not a whiz like you and Solo are, but good enough. And a guy who’d served in the first war told me that I’d be a great pilot. And that made me smile, you know, because my ma wanted to be a pilot. She actually met one of the Wright brothers once, and he explained how everything worked to her. She had a real head for figures, and she was one of the smartest people I ever knew.”

Rey smiled at Major Dameron, understanding with a painful empathy why he used the past tense when talking about his mother. He seemed almost relieved when she didn’t ask the question that everyone always asked when you had lost someone – _when did they die_?

Instead, she asked, “Did she ever get to fly?”

The major shook his head, ruefully. “No, she didn’t. She got real close, but then she had me, and then three years later, America joined the war.”

Rey wrinkled her nose and did the math. “So that would make you almost thirty?” _Do not comment on someone’s age, Rey Lyra Andor! Honestly, were you raised in a barn?_

Major Dameron hung his head and laughed in an embarrassed way. “God, you make it sound so old, Miss Andor. I feel pretty young most days. And I’m not almost thirty, I am thirty. My birthday was back in May.”

“Tell me it wasn’t the day I shouted at you,” Rey covered her mouth in horror. Major Dameron gave her a sheepish grin, and Rey flushed in mortification. “Oh, Heavens, what you must think of me. I’m terribly sorry, Major Dameron.”

“You needn’t worry what I think about you, ma’am,” he said seriously. “But, if you wanted to make it up to me, you could…” he trailed off, and the back of his neck seemed to flush. Rey leaned forward and tapped her finger impatiently on the tabletop. “You could call me Poe?” He finished hopefully.

“Poe,” Rey said, smiling. “I think I could do that, Poe.”

He huffed a laugh, his cheeks still scarlet. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Rey laughed again. She seemed to do that a lot around Major Damer- Poe.

“It just sounds nice is all,” Poe traced the rim of his glass. “Not a lot of people call me by my first name these days.”

“You should call me Rey,” she said quickly, wanting to quell the look of sadness in his eyes. He looked up, surprised. “It’s not an impertinence, you know, although it’s good to know there are still young men with manners.”

“My mama would come out of the grave and whoop me if she knew I’d gotten too familiar with a lady,” Poe smiled.

“What was your mother’s name?” Rey asked, the curiosity getting the best of her. _My ghosts are named Cassian and Jyn,_ she wanted to say. _And every day without them is physical pain, so I understand why you look so sad but so happy when you talk about her._

“Shara,” Poe answered readily, the bittersweet note of his voice unhidden. “Her name was Shara Bey.”

“She didn’t take your father’s last name?” Rey asked. “My mother didn’t take my father’s last name either.” _To be fair, her name meant and means something, and he’d just picked his at random when he moved to the North._ She could tell him that. She’d never told anyone, but she’d tell Poe Dameron.

“Nah,” Poe leaned back and hefted his empty glass in his hand briefly, examining it. “No, my dad’s last name wasn’t even his last name, to be fair.” He turned a deeper red, and Rey leaned forward further. She seemed to be constantly getting nearer to him, like he was the shore and she was the tide, driving ever inward, seeking something intangible but so very promising –

“What was his real last name?” Rey asked. When he didn’t say anything, she spoke quickly. “I’m just curious because - my father changed his last name too. His father’s name was Spanish, and Papa wanted to fit in.” _That’s a diplomatic way of saying hide from his father’s enemy and accrue a persona as a spy._

Poe stared at her, and she briefly panicked, thinking she’d revealed too much. “You’re kidding,” he said, flashing his teeth in a brilliant grin. She relaxed immediately. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“No, I assuredly am not,” Rey said evenly. “I think you’re the only person I’ve ever told that to.”

“Thank you,” Poe said quietly, and the weight of the moment settled over them. Rey decided that she liked Poe Dameron quite a lot. He was funny and loud and affable – but there was a gravity to him, something solemn and careful and dedicated, something admirable in the way he looked at the world. She didn’t know him very well, not yet, but she wanted him to look at her and see her a certain way; an oddity, considering she’d never given a damn about anyone’s opinion in her entire life.

Poe cleared his throat and set his glass back down. He left his hand on the table, and Rey sat on her own to stop herself from reaching out and taking it. “I just – I thought you were kidding because that’s exactly what my dad did when he immigrated to America.”

“Your family is from Cuba, correct?” Rey asked, hoping and praying he wouldn’t ask her how she knew that. He smirked at her, but didn’t comment.

“Yeah,” he nodded. A strange, thoughtful look passed over his face. “Most of my family is from Cuba.” She didn’t press because that appeared to be all he was going to say on the matter.

“What was your name before he changed it?” Rey asked. “Papa never told me his original name.” _It was too dangerous,_ she should have said. But, she didn’t know Poe Dameron that well, for all it felt like she’d known him since the beginning of time.

“His family name was Hernández. Dad saw a ship docking when he landed in America with the name Dameron on the side, decided he liked it. The guy who let him in didn’t ask twice about the sixteen year old Cuban kid all by himself with the weird last name.”

“He moved to a new country when he was sixteen?” Rey asked incredulously. “That must have been terrifying.”

“It was,” Poe acknowledged. “I have no idea how be did it. When I was sixteen I was kind of a terror, getting into fights and driving cars too fast.” He blushed when Rey smiled at his admission. “God, I shouldn’t have told you that. Now you’re gonna think a certain way about me.”

“I’m not sure which way I think about you,” Rey said honestly. “But I think it’s a good way, no matter what.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Rose appeared over Poe’s shoulder, then, beaming and flushed. “We gotta go, Rey!” She shouted. “Oh, hello there, Major Dameron.” She winked ludicrously at Rey, so obviously that Poe immediately noticed it. Rey ignored the smirk he sent her over the table. “But come on, Rey, we need to get going, you told me you had to get up at five tomorrow and it’s almost midnight.” Rey balked at that.

“Oh, bugger.” Poe stared at her, astonished, and Rey clapped a hand over her mouth. She giggled, semi-hysterically. “Oh, no, and you thought I was a proper lady.”

“You managed to get him to think you were proper for this long, Rey, consider that a success. Anyway, I’ll be at the front, you two say goodbye.” Another salacious wink and her traitorous best friend was gone.

“I’m sorry for such – such –“ Rey squirmed, embarrassed.

“Don’t apologize!” Poe roared, looking delighted. “God, I’ve been holdin’ back, I think I said damn in front of you once, and let me tell you, it haunted me for days! _Days_!”

Rey smiled back at the pilot, an odd sort of grief curling through her happiness; Cassian Andor would have loved Poe Dameron, and they would never meet. She’d often thought about what she’d lost that day eight years ago, the unfinished lives, the knowledge she’d never see them again – she’d never thought about certain future experiences she wouldn’t get to have, she hadn’t considered the people who’d never get to meet her parents, the things that’d be denied to people she’d come to care about, the connections that would never be allowed to form. Up until now, every important person in her life had known her parents.

And she’d just met him, but she knew Poe Dameron was going to be a very important person in her life. She would have loved to have introduced him to her parents; and she’d never get to do that. Rey blinked against the sudden tears, and she stood from the table, Poe standing as well.

“Geez, I’m sorry, I shouldn’ta teased you,” he said, looking horrified. “I meant it as a compliment, I swear-“

“No, no,” Rey waved her hand. “This is nothing to do with – it’s nothing. Pay me no mind.” She smiled at him, and even in her strange sadness, she meant the smile, and when Poe returned it, the smile became more fixed in place.

“Can I, uh,” Poe coughed nervously, and his hands fidgeted with the buttons of his jacket. “Do you think I could maybe – you might like to –“

Rey waited patiently for him to finish the thought.

“Well, lunch is nice, and maybe you like to eat lunch, so I was thinking, maybe I could take you to lunch?” Poe asked, squeaking some of it, like an odd little mouse. “Some time this week?”

Rey stared at him blankly. “Lunch? No, no I don’t think that’s possible.” Poe nodded, cheeks red, and began to mumble something that sounded like an apology, something about being untoward, and of course she didn’t have to, and Rey laughed brightly. “I have to work, Major Dameron, and I assume you do, too. So no, you can’t take me to lunch. But: you can take me to dinner?”

Poe turned a satisfying beet red and nodded hastily. “Dinner, yes – good, uhm, dinner would be – food too – I see – dinner, yes-“

“Wednesday?” Rey asked, her cheeks almost hurting from smiling so much. “You and I can get dinner on Wednesday.”

“Wednesday, got it, yes, five days from now, Wednesday?” Poe confirmed, eyes almost entirely too bright with hope. Rey found it flattering and a little concerning that she’d scrambled his brain with so little effort.

“Were you that convinced I’d say no?” She asked, setting out some money on the table to cover their bill. Poe made a squawking noise, and Rey waved his hand away. “Consider it a patriotic duty.”

“I’m buying dinner,” Poe said sternly, and Rey nodded. She’d allow it. “And yeah, I couldn’t – couldn’t really think of an honest reason you’d want to say yes. That was a total shot in the dark.”

“I like talking to you,” Rey said simply. “And you make me laugh. Pick me up outside the Falcon at seven, Major.” She patted him on the shoulder on her way by, and she delighted in the shy way he ducked his head and smiled towards his feet.

“I’ll see you Wednesday, then,” Poe called after her. Rey waved over her shoulder without looking back; she took particular delight in the security of her knowledge that his eyes were on her figure until the door closed behind her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knows, maybe I'll let them actually hug by Chapter 20. >:3


	5. Starry-Eyed Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey experiences some harassing behaviour at work, but she refuses to let it dampen her spirits or hinder her work. Wednesday night comes, and Poe Dameron arrives to take her on their date. They grow closer, make a new friend; and Rey Andor becomes very much in danger of falling in love irrevocably with the American pilot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from Benny Goodman's ["Taking a Chance on Love"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebhPooba-ZM)
> 
> Warning, in case the summary wasn't clear: Rey experiences sexual harassment at work after it becomes obvious that Major Dameron is courting her. A man grabs her without permission, on the arm (enough to bruise), and calls her a name meant to demean her sexuality. 
> 
> Another connected warning: the man uses racial slurs (accurate to the time period, regarding ethnic identity) in reference to Poe.

Rey walked into work on Monday morning feeling suspiciously like she was walking on air. She hadn’t seen Major Dameron again after their moonlight dance, but she was looking forward to Wednesday (perhaps for the first time in her life). She was still humming the song they’d danced to when Ben nudged her shoulder.

“How was your weekend?” He asked teasingly.

“Pleasant.” Rey smiled down at her feet and then chanced a look up at her tall friend. Ben smiled down at her, and there was something almost bashful in his gaze. “Why, how was yours?”

“Good.”

“How was…Amy?” Rey asked, leaning against the large oak table and pretending to examine the matrix scrawled out on the board. The pause between her question and the name was imperceptible, but she knew Ben wouldn’t miss her meaning.

“She was lovely,” he said softly. “We had dinner at my house. Mother wasn’t home.”

“That does sound lovely,” Rey teased. “I can only hope my own dinner this Wednesday goes that well.”

“Oh?” Ben grinned with full force now, before moving away from the table to pick up the chalk. “Dinner? Wednesday? May I ask where?”

“You may not,” Rey said haughtily, walking over to join him. “I’m not even sure where we’re going.”

“A surprise,” Ben said. “I didn’t think you liked those.”

“I didn’t before.” That was all she had to say on the matter; but, truthfully, she didn’t mind the way Poe Dameron kept surprising her, with his charm, his sweet temper, his humor, his apparent and rapid devotion to her – his attentions were flattering, not cloying, and Rey really was looking forward to getting to know him better.

She and Ben worked together peacefully before the regular work hours started, and when the rest of the staff filed into the Hut, Ben sighed and set his chalk down.

“There’s a recent collection of intel we need to decipher,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “Rogers has it. Shall we draw straws to see who has to talk to him?”

Rogers was an unhappy, unpleasant man in his early thirties whose personality was even more bland than his clothing. Somehow. Neither Rey nor Ben (nor anyone of taste, to be sure) enjoyed his company, but, to be fair:

“You talked to him last time,” Rey said grimly, dusting her hands off and then straightening out her skirt. “I’ll fall on the sword today.”

“Joyous.” Ben sounded anything but.

“Indeed.” Rey winked at Ben before walking out into the regular office space. Rogers was at his desk, thank God, so she didn’t have to hunt him down near the coffee or scare him off from the secretarial pool. She found speaking to him incredibly distasteful on a typical day, but she was in high enough spirits that she hoped the interaction would pass with little to no aggravation.

Rey Andor was rarely wrong; this was one of those times.

“Good morning, Rogers,” she said calmly. “I heard you had our reports to go through?”

He looked up from his notes and nodded at her, pushing his glasses up his nose. He went back to his notes for a minute, and Rey raised her eyebrow in astonishment. She looked over at the office she shared with Ben, and saw her friend leaning against the doorframe, grinning evilly. Rey shot him a glare born of death and violence, and then smiled sweetly at Rogers.

“Do you think you could hand me the report? I’m not sure which of these,” she gestured to the absolute mess on his desk. “It is.”

“I suppose.” Rogers sighed heavily as though she’d hindered the cracking of the next Enigma, and he stood to rifle through the files. It brought him into unfortunate proximity to her, and Rey wrinkled her nose against the odd smell of his cologne. He found the file at last, and Rey breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be able to walk away, and she took the form to sign that custody of the document was passing over to her. “So,” Rogers said.

God. Now he wanted to have a conversation. She’d been so close..

“So,” Rey said, serenely, finishing her signature and clipping the form to the front of the file.

“You and Major Dameron, huh?” Rogers sat on the edge of his desk and leered at her. Rey felt her face flush – from the corner of her eye, she saw Ben straighten up in alarm. She raised a surreptitious hand to keep him in place. She could handle Rogers on her own.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Rey stated coolly, opening the file and pretending to flick through with a bored expression on her face.

“I heard you two were going steady,” Rogers pressed. “Which is funny, considering you always said you didn’t have time to go on dates.” Ah yes, their disastrous conversation at last years’ Christmas party. Delightful for him to bring it up.

“I haven’t been on a date with Major Dameron,” Rey said. It was more information than Rogers deserved, but it was enough to end the conversation, and it wasn’t a lie. She gave him a small, tight smile, and began to walk away. Rogers reached out and grabbed her arm, almost tugging her back to face him.

 _You want to strike someone with this part of your hand, mija,_ her papa’s voice came unbidden to her mind, as a roaring filled her ears. The ghost of Cassian Andor’s hand stroked over the fleshy part of her palm. _Avoid the bones of the face, and don’t use your knuckles to hit above the jaw unless you have to. Aim for the nose. If that fails, the eyes._

 _Yes, papa,_ the quiet voice of her past self arose, and so did the urge to knock Rogers back into the 1800’s.

In the present, Rey Andor had a job and a better hold of her temper and a vision for the future that didn’t involve unemployment and jailtime. So, she swallowed her anger and wrenched her arm out of his grasp – it hurt more than she wanted to admit, and she gritted her teeth, knowing it would bruise later.

“I’ll thank you not to touch me again without permission, Mr. Rogers,” she said with as much venom as she could muster. “And I’ll thank you not to ask after my personal life.”

“So you haven’t even been on a date with him yet?” Rogers leered at her, not catching the hint. Ben was walking towards them now, but she shook her head at him – if she couldn’t handle her own battles, she’d never get any respect. At the next desk, Richard Wendell looked up with some concern and opened his mouth, but she spoke before him.

“Whether or not I go on dates with people is none of your concern.” For all she’d been bothered by irritating men in the workplace before, this felt more prolonged, more personal than usual. She supposed it had something to do with her frequent rejections of this particular man.

“So you’re content being an American’s whore.” Rey’s ears burned, but she bit her tongue. She’d been called worse, and would continue to be called worse – Rogers was just smarting that she’d ‘taken’ a higher position away from someone he thought was more deserving, that is to say, someone that looked like him: and then she’d had the gall to knock him down another peg and refuse to go on a date with him.

She examined the file she’d wrested from him and didn’t respond. Regretfully, that did not inspire Rogers to let go of the topic at hand.

“No, wait, he’s not even a _real_ American, is he? A spic, right? You’re putting out for a –-“ The next word rang horribly in the office, and a dead silence fell.

Rey looked up in shock from the files. Ben’s head whipped around as well from where he’d been talking to someone nearby, and Leia had just walked out of her office and was now stomping over, having heard Rogers’s loud comment – mother and son looked fit to commit homicide, so Rey shot first.

“Don’t ever talk to me again, Rogers,” she said coldly. “You’re pathetic and imbecilic, and not worth my or anyone else’s time. And don’t you dare ever talk about Major Dameron again. He’s twice the man you’ll ever be.”

Rogers sneered and opened his mouth to talk more, but Leia stepped in and gestured for Rey to move away.

She was fuming as she walked towards Ben, but she did hear the very satisfying “your position is now terminated,” issue from Leia as Ben stepped in close to her and walked her back to the quiet safety of their workroom.

“Next time, I’ll talk to the assholes,” Ben said lightly as Rey stacked the file on top of their pile. She snorted, tears still burning at her eyes from the humiliating experience.

“The next ten times, more like,” she said, voice only slightly wavering. Rey held her chin up and examined the board with renewed interest. Ben walked over and rested a large hand on her shoulder, squeezing once, comfortingly, before letting go.

“Let’s get back to work.”

***

Wednesday came impossibly slowly, but she did find herself at the Falcon half an hour before she agreed to meet Poe. She sat on a bar stool and waved at Chewie, her week making her feel more forlorn than normal. She was wearing a comfortable blue dress, one of her nicer ones, with a skirt that was a little longer than fashionable, and flat shoes. Rey would never admit it out loud, but she was glad Poe was short because it gave her an excuse to not bother with heeled footwear.

She was wearing a sweater as well, and her excuse was that it was promising to be a chilly evening from the light rain earlier. It had cleared up enough that Rey felt confident they could walk to their dinner, and she prayed Poe wouldn’t bring a car, wouldn’t ask her to get in a car – she didn’t want that conversation. Not tonight.

At 6:45, she spied a familiar figure outside the pub; Poe Dameron had arrived early, and was flattening his hair nervously with his hand, and he was holding flowers. Rey was already smiling when she hopped down from the stool – Chewie howled something about being safe at her, which she waved off merrily – and she pushed through the door.

“Punctual,” she said, trying to hide her smile when Poe startled. “I like it.”

“Hello,” he said, already blushing. “I uh – here-“ he offered her the bouquet, and Rey smiled more, seeing that they were wildflowers.

“Did you pick these yourself?” She asked, not bothering to hide the delight in her voice.

“Yes, well, Wexley dropped me off early, and uh, I saw a field over that way,” he pointed over his shoulder, “ and I figured, you might like flowers, flowers are pretty, and people like flowers, so—”

“They’re lovely,” Rey assured him. “Do you mind if I leave them with Chewie so they don’t wilt while we’re on our date?”

She very specifically chose the wording so there’d be no mistake that she thought of this dinner as a date – and she was reward with another blush from the handsome pilot. “No ma’am,” he answered breathlessly. “I don’t mind at all.” He moved quickly to open the door to the pub for her, and Rey walked back in, over to the bar where Chewie was cleaning a glass and smirking at her. Rey stuck her tongue out childishly at the bartender, who only winked and put together a large glass of water for them.

“Thank you, Chewie!”

He grumbled and then yelled a warning over at Poe, who paled quickly and opened the door again for Rey on their way out.

“What on earth did he just say?” Poe asked worriedly. “I couldn’t tell, but it sounded violent.”

“He said, take care of the wee lass, or I’ll have your guts for garters!” Rey explained cheerfully. “I’d take him at his word, Major Dameron, he is frightfully strong.”

“I bet.” Poe shook his head wonderingly, and then held his arm out; Rey slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they walked down the street. “I have a confession to make.”

“And what would that be?” She asked, dread forming in her stomach. Was this a joke? Did he not want this to be a date?

“I don’t know anywhere good to eat,” Poe said, ears bright pink. “I asked you to dinner, and then as we were driving home that night, I realized I don’t know anything about this town, or what you like to eat, or—”

He was fit to be tied, so Rey stepped in to help him. “I know a good place,” she said, patting his arm comfortingly. He quieted down and smiled at her bashfully. “If you would be so good as to follow me?”

“Anywhere.” He said it solemnly, like an oath, and it was Rey’s turn to blush.

They ended up at a little stall a few streets over. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said as they stood in line, worrying at her bottom lip. “But it is good, and something you should have while you’re here. We could eat while we walk. Unless you wanted to sit, I’m sure we could find somewhere to sit—” She cut herself off, mortified. She must have caught this ridiculous rambling from the major. Rey Andor never babbled like an idiot, and yet here she was.

“What kind of food do they serve?” Poe asked curiously. “We get all kinds of food in Miami, but this smells amazing!” He squinted at the board and read it aloud. “Fish and chips?”

“I think you’ll like it,” Rey said nervously. Poe smiled at her when she ordered for both of them, and they collected their newspapers from the vendor. Poe was delighted at the packaging, and they ended up walking down the street while they ate, talking about this and that while Poe admired the various buildings in town.

“This is so good,” Poe said, a truly obscene moan building in his throat when he ate the first chip. “Sorry, God, you must think I’m a heathen.” Rey blushed and shook her head, a little overcome by the sensual noise. She focused on her fish instead, enjoying the crackle of the fat against her tongue with the sharpness of the vinegar.

Poe finished well before she did, and she noticed him eyeing her half-eaten packet. “Do you want the rest of mine?” She asked, smiling at his intense gaze. “I can never finish.”

“Are you sure?” Poe turned beet red, and Rey laughed.

“Positive, Major Dameron. I ate too much for lunch anyway, and you’d be doing me a favor.” Poe eventually consented and he absolutely demolished the rest of her dinner in less than two minutes. “Should I be worried that Uncle Sam isn’t feeding you boys enough?”

Poe grinned sheepishly. “Blame the Depression, I guess. Still get way too excited about square meals.”

Rey frowned, not knowing what to say. Her family hadn’t been affected in the slightest by the market crash, but she’d heard such horrifying stories of families forced to leave home, fathers separated from children in search of work – “I hadn’t realized…” Rey shook her head. “It’s easy to forget what happened. I shouldn’t let myself forget.”

“If it didn’t hurt your family, you should be grateful, not embarrassed,” Poe said firmly, as if he’d read her mind. “If my dad hadn’t lost the farm, we wouldn’t have moved to the city, and I woulda never become a pilot. So don’t fret, Miss Andor.”

“What would you have become, if you didn’t become a pilot?” Rey asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. They’d reached the outskirts of town, and were now walking down a small path towards the river. In the fading light of day, Poe looked a little shy, so she took his hand and smiled at him.

His fingers threaded through hers, and he coughed. “You’re gonna think it’s silly, or some kinda line,” he muttered.

“I won’t,” Rey promised. “Truly. You can tell me.”

“Alright.” Poe smiled at her but then stared back at the ground in front of them as they walked. “I woulda – all I can remember from bein a kid was how much I loved my ma and pa. My pa is great, he’s still livin’ in Miami. Love him to death. And he loves me. Greatest dad in the world. So, it’s silly, but what I was gonna do never really occupied my thoughts much. All I ever really wanted to be was a father.”

Rey blinked in surprise. She’d never even thought about being a parent, for all she had loved her own. Mathematician, spy, warrior – she’d had lofty ambitions, and homebuilding didn’t seem to fit the bill. And here was this handsome, obviously talented, brave man readily admitting that he wanted domesticity and happiness – he didn’t say he wanted a wife to boss around or a household to run– he wanted _children._ Rey felt oddly very, very small in that moment.

“I think that’s very admirable,” she said carefully. “And your father sounds wonderful. I’m sure he’s very proud of you.”

Poe laughed ruefully. “He is. I miss him something fierce, though.”

“Tell me about him.”

And he did. Poe told her all about Kes Dameron as they meandered down to the riverbank, and Rey listened enraptured to the story of a Great War survivor who’d fallen in love with a girl from his high school, how they’d survived the war and built a life together – it was better than any radio program, and Poe Dameron’s voice cast a spell over her that she didn’t want to wake up from.

Eventually, they switched to talking about education, a topic she was more comfortable with. The temperature had risen strangely, so Rey shrugged off her sweater as she was talking about her time at Cambridge. She found herself interrupted, though.

“What the hell is that?” Poe demanded, pointing at her arm. Rey looked down and cursed silently. She’d forgotten, caught up in the date as she was, about the real reason why she’d worn the sweater tonight. There was a ring of bruises around her upper arm from where Rogers had grabbed her the other day.

“Nothing,” Rey said firmly, already moving to put her sweater back on. Poe leaned in though, and held a hand out, hovering over her skin, and examined it. Rey sighed, knowing that it unmistakably looked like –

“Is that – is that a _handprint_?” Poe asked incredulously. “Did somebody do this to you, sweetheart?” She didn’t answer right away, her throat too closed from the lasting embarrassment and humiliation from Monday. “Rey, are you in some sort of trouble?” The concern on his face was so earnest, so genuine, that she was finally spurred into responding.

“No,” She said, not wanting him to think she came from that sort of tragic background. “It’s nothing, I just bruise easily—“

“Who grabbed you hard enough to bruise you like that?” Poe asked. All this time examining her, and he had yet to actually touch her. She realized he was waiting for permission. Sighing, she leaned into his touch, and her eyes closed involuntarily at how gently he handled her, how his calloused hands skated softly, almost reverently, around the sore spot on her arm. “Who?” She opened her eyes and looked over at him, and saw that his eyes had grown frightfully dark. Rey shivered from what she saw, and Poe blinked once, the look in his eyes evaporating when he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

“He’s not a problem anymore,” Rey said softly. “Leia fired him.”

“This happened to you at work?” Poe shook his head and let go of her arm to drag his fingers through his carefully combed hair. She realized how curly it must actually be, when it wasn’t cut into military length, as it responded to his aggravated attentions. “I thought Bletchley was a safe place for a girl to work.”

“It is,” Rey insisted. “Really, your concern is sweet, but unnecessary. He was an anomaly, and he won’t be coming back. He just…he had some things to say about my choice in partner.” She deflated even as she said it, and Poe wilted in realization.

“You mean, he had a problem with you seein’ me.” Poe shook his head, eyes squinting as if he were in pain. “God, he hurt you – because – because I wouldn’t stop flirting with you?”

“No,” Rey shook her head as well, reached out to take Poe’s hand. He breathed deeply and stroked his thumb over her palm. “No, he was an ass, and he’s gone now. He would have had a problem with me no matter what. Rogers has been frustrated for months, ever since I was pulled onto Leia’s team, and he was mad because I rejected him out of hand when he asked me on a date last year. I’m sure he would have done something awful whether or not you flirted with me.” Poe still didn’t smile, so she squeezed his hand. When he looked at her, she smiled encouragingly at him. “I like it when you flirt with me. And that’s all that matters.”

Poe’s gaze was still heavy with regret, and Rey’s breath caught in her throat when he bent at the waist, his head near her arm. He looked up, his eyes unreadable, clouded with an emotion she’d never seen before, and then brushed his lips over the tender skin. Rey shivered again, and watched the lines of Poe’s throat move while he swallowed and stood. They stared at each other in the twilight, and Rey found herself drifting towards him on the riverbank. Just a little closer, and she might not ever escape the gravitational pull of him, she’d be forever ensnared by the heady gaze of Poe Dameron, and Rey didn’t want to fight it, wanted to lean into it, wanted his arms around her, wanted his lips –

A weak mewl called out from the nearby bushes. Rey and Poe both startled backwards out of their trance, and Poe frowned towards the source. “What on earth?” He muttered, walking forward. Rey followed him and peered over his shoulder as he knelt down, rummaged in the undergrowth, and reemerged holding something to his chest. “Poor little guy’s soaked!” Poe said, frowning down at his prize.

Rey peered into Poe’s large hands and saw a tiny orange and white kitten, paws clutching at the meat of his thumb, tiny teeth flashing and gnawing at Poe.

“Oh, he’s darling,” Rey breathed, reaching out to cup her hands around the tiny little thing. “Poor dear.” She quickly rearranged her sweater in her arms and held it out to Poe. “Put him in here, let’s dry him off.” Poe laid the creature into her arms, and Rey cooed down at it, holding it close to her body. She stepped in towards Poe with the same movement, and he wrapped an arm securely around her, adding to the warmth being provided to the kitten (and Rey told herself that was why she was allowing the familiarity. It was only sensible. They were doing a service for the little cat).

“How long has he been out here?” Poe wondered, looking down the bank. There was no sign of a box, or another kitten, or a mother cat.

“I don’t know, but he’s a strong little fellow,” Rey declared. “A fighter. A survivor.” Poe smiled at her, and even without her sweater, she felt warm. “He needs a name,” she said thoughtfully. It was obvious to her that she was going to keep him. There was really no other option.

“How about…” Poe hummed while he thought, his forefinger extending to scratch the kitten between the ears, a movement that elicited a deep, contented purr from the beast, and a giggle from Rey. “Bletchley Baby.”

“I like it,” Rey said, smiling down at the kitten. “Beebee for short?”

“Perfect.” Poe rested his chin on her shoulder, and Rey allowed herself to float in this one perfect moment at the river’s edge, a handsome and kind pilot at her side, and a darling bundle in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm sorry, have I lulled you into a sense of fluff security? The Angst Returns in Chapter VI, "Paper Doll." Tune in next time!)


	6. Paper Doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the fact that her affection for the major grows daily towards undeniable love, Poe and Rey encounter some unfortunate setbacks in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warnings for this chapter:  
> *Racism/racist behaviors - people have issues with Rey dating a Latino man  
> *One person confronts them at the Falcon, and the man touches Rey's face without permission.

Rey adored her new cat. Adored. Beebee was a sweet, ornery little thing, with moods to rival even Ben Solo – who had come over and begrudgingly allowed the little beast to climb all over him. (He pretended not to like it. Rey saw right through him). “He likes you,” Rey cooed at her friend.

“Disgusting.” Ben said, picking the cat up disdainfully from where it was clawing up his jumper. Rey saw the corners of his mouth twitch though.

“And how’s Hux?” Rey asked, relaxing against her chairback. Ben smiled softly and resumed stroking Beebee over the head. The kitten nuzzled into his broad palm, and his smile deepened.

“He’s good,” Ben said, his cheeks oddly pink. “It’s – it’s really good. It’s easier than it’s ever been. He’s – it’s a little intimidating honestly. But he’s very confident. Makes me feel less anxious when we’re in public.”

“It helps that he’s perhaps almost inconveniently rich,” Rey teased, and Ben shrugged in acknowledgment.

“Definitely doesn’t hurt,” Ben said. “He – he said we were going steady, the other day.” His large feet shuffled around on the floor. “Never gone steady with anybody before.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Rey said, resting her chin in her hand. “You and your handsome, debonair sweetheart.”

“He really is handsome,” Ben sighed wistfully. Then, Beebee nipped at his hand. “Ouch! What did I do wrong, you monster? I was doing precisely as you asked.”

“He’s a contrarian,” Rey noted. “You two should get along famously.” Ben chucked the decorative pillow from her couch at her head, and Rey yelped and ducked under the end table. By the time she re-emerged, smoothing her skirt and hair, Ben had resumed petting Beebee, both of them looking ready to purr.

***

Work in the weeks following Rogers’s firing was a little off-putting. There’d been no word from him after Leia threw him out on his arse, and Rey counted her lucky stars – which she had very few of – that he seemed to be gone for good. However, she got the distinct notion that some of the men in the office held her responsible for his termination, a notion that irritated her as much as it made her stomach clench with guilt.

And the whispers didn’t stop, from the men or the other girls. Rey and Poe had gone on several more dates, at least once a week – two if they could swing it – all of them at mealtimes, and each of them ended with Poe kissing her hand outside the Falcon and walking off, whistling. He didn’t walk her home, due to her concern that it would look untoward, and he didn’t push her for anything more than a few stolen hours once or twice a week. He was a gentlemen, and he was kind, and lovely, and handsome, and she often day-dreamed about brown eyes and tan skin and black hair so curly but so soft-looking that she wanted to run her fingers through it –

But no matter the true nature of their relationship, she was publicly dating Poe Dameron,  and even though she was not terribly well-versed in either romance or social interaction, she saw enough of the body language cues, snide comments, and averted eyes in the workplace to know that the whispers and rumors were two-pronged–

One: she was putting out for an American, after years of convincing everyone that she was frigid and uncaring.

Two: she was putting out for a non-white American.

She could deal with the former – she only gave a damn for Leia, Ben, and Dilly’s opinion at BP.

The latter made her blood boil.

“Does he really speak Spanish?” A girl asked her one day at the rear of the office, completely out of the blue. Rey blinked in surprise, and then frowned at her.

“I beg your pardon?” Rey asked coolly. She didn’t even know this girl’s name. The impertinence. Rey went back to sharpening her pencil.

“Major Dameron.” The girl looked over to her friends, giggled once, and then looked back to Rey. “Is it true that he – you know – speaks Spanish when –”

“Je n'ai aucune putain d'idée,” Rey snarled. The girl blinked, not understanding. Rey tapped her pencil against her hand, and then tossed her hair angrily out of her face. “Pull yourself together. He’s not a creature in a zoo. His language skills are none of my business, and they certainly aren’t yours. Get back to work.” The girl scurried away, and Rey scoffed.

That wasn’t even the rudest question she received. Some of the men had been _highly_ impertinent, if not outright hostile the way Rogers had. Rey still shivered remembering the way his hand felt gripping her arm. Ben now came with her to speak to unfriendly people in the office – Rey would protest, but secretly she felt a little better with her hulking friend behind her (even if she could kick someone’s arse six ways to Sunday, and Ben had once thrown up and cried when asked to pin an already dead butterfly to a piece of paper). It was just nice to know someone had her back (and could act as witness when she inevitably snapped and kicked someone’s arse six ways to Sunday).

Rey didn’t share any of this with Poe – the heartbroken look in his eyes when he’d discovered the bruises on her arm was not an expression she sought to replicate. She hadn’t even confirmed his obvious suspicion that the attack had been rooted in racial discrimination; it simply wouldn’t help Poe Dameron to know that people cared at all that she was dating a man from Cuba.

She liked Poe Dameron: liked him quite a bit, most certainly heading towards a more powerful feeling than just vague preference and affection. Rey truly, really liked him, and she wanted to keep dating him. She had a sinking suspicion that he was noble and headstrong enough to end whatever was between them in an effort to spare her some discomfort at work.

Leia Organa was an excellent employer, and Rey didn’t fear a repeat of Rogers, and if she could spare Poe the sadness of thinking that their dates were causing even mild issues at her work, then she would spare him.

***

 

On a random, oddly blustery Wednesday in August, Rey wandered into The Falcon for some stew and maybe some ale. Her pilot light in her stove had gone out, and she was too knackered to bother fixing it. She was wearing a jumper with holes in it, and a pair of pants, and her hair was unkempt.

None of these were details that typically bothered her, but when the door swung open and revealed a handsome pilot sitting at the bar unexpectedly, she sincerely considered turning around before he saw her, going home, putting on her nicest dress and makeup, and walking all the way back here to make a grander entrance.

All of that went right out of her head when he turned and saw her – Poe’s entire face lit up as if she were walking down the grand staircase at a ball wearing a fine gown, and not wearing her hair in a haphazard updo, last week’s baking still present on her jumper. He waved at her and eyed the empty stool next to him eagerly, his eyes flitting back up to meet hers, a clear invitation in his face.

Rey snorted and walked over to him, waggling her fingers at Chewie, who was wiping a glass and smirking at the dreamy expression on Poe’s face.

She was exhausted, but that was quickly forgotten in the evening’s delightful fact: Poe Dameron was tipsy. He was clearly a few drinks in, his cheeks flushed and his eyes a little glassy, but he was still a gentleman as he rose to his feet and pulled her stool out for her while she approached.

“Hello, soldier,” Rey greeted him, taking a seat primly.

“Hello, genius,” Poe answered breezily, winking at her and sitting down again. “What’s your poison?”

“I just wanted something to eat,” Rey laughed. Chewie acknowledged her with a nod and a wink, walking over to get her a bowl of stew. She took it from him with cheerful thanks and took a deep whiff of the aromatic beef and vegetables. “This is my favorite food in the whole world,” she said happily, sighing and grabbing her spoon. When she looked up, Poe was looking at her with impossible fondness in his expression. “What?” She said.

“Nothin’,” Poe said, his elbow on the bar, chin in hand. “You’re just spectacular is all.”

“Spectacular?” Rey snorted and filled the spoon with broth. “No, this is spectacular. Here, try it!” She unthinkingly held it out for him, and Poe gazed at her, something slightly dark in his expression. His eyes barely left her face for him to eat the bite of stew she’d offered him, and Rey’s breath hitched with something slightly possessive when his lips closed around the spoon. He lifted his eyes to her face one more time as he sat back upright.

She watched him lick his bottom lip, her heart beginning to pick up in pace, his pink tongue running to the corner of his mouth in a manner best described as lascivious. “Well?” She breathed.

“Delicious,” Poe confirmed, and the heat surged in her gut. Rey blushed and took a bit for herself, humming in happiness as that more familiar warmth washed through her system. Next to her, Poe thankfully took a sip of his beer, his attention off of her for a moment. They sat in a silence that wasn’t quite peaceful, but more promising, for a minute while Rey continued to eat.

Poe ordered another drink – “Why?” She had asked him, when he told her felt like drinking. “Bad day at work,” he admitted before blushing. “Came here hopin’ to see you,” which had then made her blush – and drank it quickly, the flush building on his neck.

“You’re going to be absolutely useless tomorrow,” Rey pointed out, laughing. Poe smiled at her and shrugged with slightly less coordination that usual.

“God, I love your laugh,” he said admiringly. He blinked, seeming to realize the intensity and implication of that statement, and tapped his fingers against the wood of the bar nervously. Rey covered his hand with her own, and stroked her thumb over his knuckles, enjoying the way his breath audibly caught.

“You make me laugh all the time,” Rey said thoughtfully. “Nobody else makes me laugh the way you do, Poe.” She forced herself to meet his gaze, and the sheer adoration in his eyes made her want to jump over the bar and hide amongst the crates of liquor until the feeling in her chest abated.

“That’s good.” Poe used his free hand to take another drink, easily his sixth of the night. He shook his head, sighing, and flipped his hand so their fingers could lace together. “Quiero casarme contigo, mi amor,” he murmured, his cheeks still flushed while he swirled the contents of his drink and spoke towards the bar. Rey felt surprise surge through her – over a month of dates with Poe, and he had yet to speak in Spanish to her.

“What?” She asked. She had no idea what he said – she ran it against possible cognates in Italian and French, came up with nothing. _Casa_ meant house in Spanish, she knew that much, and thought she had heard it in his statement – something about a house?

“Quiero huir contigo, alejarte de esta guerra. Pero, ¿me acompañarías?” He shook his head and fixed her with a baleful expression. “Quiero hacer un hogar contigo.”

“I don’t speak Spanish,” Rey pointed out. Her papa always said he would teach her, but talking in his native tongue had brought such a look of pain to his face, that Mama always changed the subject. She had no idea what his life was like before he came to them, but her mother was adamant in protecting Cassian from it.

“No?” Poe grinned at her then, a little more playfully. He picked her hand up and kissed her knuckles. “Bonita, diosa, reina,” he continued with the words as he ran his fingers up her forearm playfully. Rey shivered from the contact, even with her jumper on, and Poe chuckled darkly. “Eres hermosa, eres perfecta,” he said.

“That means perfect!” Rey said triumphantly. “You think I’m perfect!”

“Perfectly ridiculous,” Poe retorted, reaching up to tug at a loose strand of hair. Happily ensconced in the bubble they’d constructed, and happily entranced by Poe Dameron, Rey forgot propriety and let out a snort of laughter which only served to stir Poe’s mischief. He squeezed her leg, right above her knee, not too high to be inappropriate, but enough to get a shriek of laughter from her. “See? Can’t even stop laughing.” Rey giggled, and Chewie rolled his eyes at them, making a signal that clearly said _no more drinks for you two._

She didn’t stop laughing, and Poe continued, the admiration not gone from his voice, but the meaning still slightly unclear. “Tu risa es como del sol. Podría escucharte reír para siempre.” His voice raised with each passing words, the passion in them evident even though she didn’t quite know what he was saying. She was about to ask for a translation when a loud, angry voice came from behind them.

“Is he bothering you, miss?”

Rey turned around, eyebrows raised in surprise, to look at the newcomer. “No?”

A tall man in his mid-thirties stood there, his hairline receding, beard thick and barely softening the ferocious look on his face.

“It sure looks like this tosser’s giving you trouble. Making a scene, putting his hands on you.” Poe started forward, off his stool, and she moved quickly to avoid a confrontation.

“No, no,” Rey said hastily, her laughter slightly more nervous now. She reached a hand out in front of Poe’s chest and tried to pull him away from the interloper. Poe went easily, sitting back down with little effort on her part.

She distantly remembered seeing this man in the past; they’d listened to a radio program together one night, she was sure. Rey gave him her sunniest smile and gripped Poe’s shoulder. “Thank you, but I’m fine – it’s completely alright. Poe’s my –” She paused for a moment and gave Poe a shy smile when he looked at her.

What should she call him? Was he her beau? Her ‘fella’? Her sweetheart?

Poe smiled back at her, eyes wide and wondering, but before she could finish her thought, that man snorted.

“Well, isn’t that beautiful,” he sneered. “Our girls, putting out for foreigners.” Her blood ran cold automatically.

“He’s a soldier,” Rey corrected angrily, her hand dropping from Poe’s shoulder so she could stand between him and the man. “And he deserves your damn respect.” She took a shuddering breath, and attempted to go for conflict resolution through a small joke, give the man room to back out. “He can’t help the fact that he’s an American.” She smiled at Poe over her shoulder; he didn’t smile back. He looked sick to his stomach, grey-faced, and shook his head at her, reaching out to grab her arm and try to pull her back.

“That’s not an American.” The man spoke again, and Rey’s head whipped around to stare at him in shock. “Isn’t that right?” His large, roughened hand reached out and gripped her chin, and Rey’s spine stiffened in response. “Like should be with like, little lady .” She could smell the whiskey on his breath, and Poe’s stool slammed against the bar as he stood quickly and wrapped an arm around her waist, physically pulling her away from the man, pulling her close to his body and turning them so he was closer to the aggressor than she was.

Chewie was around the bar in a second, dragging the man away from them and throwing him out into the street with a garbled threat at his back, and probably more than one boot up the ass.

Poe’s arm was firm around her waist, and in any other context she’d admire the sheer wall of muscle his abdomen and chest provided, but she also could feel him shaking against her back. Rey touched his forearm lightly, and she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Poe?” He was staring out the door where Chewie had just evicted the troublesome patron. “Poe?” She repeated herself, managing to turn in his tight hold.

He startled back into himself and released her; Rey tried not to look too put out about that. Of all the things that had happened in the last five minutes, Poe Dameron, warm and solid against her body, was the one she never wanted to stop or forget.

“Are you alright?” Rey asked gently. She reached her hand out to touch his jaw. It, too, was trembling. “Darling?” She surprised herself with the endearment. _It was what Mama called Papa,_ she realized. Poe grabbed her wrist and rested his face against her palm for a moment, his lips pressing into the skin of the heel of her hand. His thumb dragged back and forth over the inside of her wrist, eliciting a pleasurable sensation that shot up her arm, directly to a location hot and low in her gut. Rey smiled at him tentatively. He didn’t return it; but, he did drop her hand, pushing it away from him.

“I’m alright.” Poe’s voice sounded like there was gravel in his throat. “Are you – are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m quite alright.” Rey smiled at him again, a little more sure of herself. “Shall we get back to our drinks?” She nodded at the bar next to her, but Poe shook his head, clearing his throat.

“I should … should really get outta here,” Poe mumbled, rubbing his neck. Rey opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head again, and she closed it, her heart breaking at the agony in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Rey.”

“What could you possibly be sorry for?” Rey asked, a tone of incredulity surging through her question. “You did nothing wrong!” She had been impressed that Poe showed such restraint – his instinctive action had been to protect her, not to pulverize the drunken man. Most men were insistent upon proving their dominance and masculinity through physical displays – Poe, obviously in his physical prime, with such a passion and flair for life, had resorted to defense, not violence, in a tense situation. It made Rey like him all the more.

Poe didn’t seem to agree with her line of thinking.

“He touched you,” Poe said weakly, dragging a hand through his hair. “He put his fuckin’ hands on you sweetheart, and it was my fault.”

“It most certainly was not,” Rey said, aghast. She was startled to hear him curse so openly, with such anger – she doubted he had even noticed the slip. “Poe, darling, you mustn’t blame yourself for that, you didn’t do anything wrong, he was just of a dreadful opinion that…” She stopped when she realized Poe wasn’t looking at her at all, just facing the window, dragging his hand through his hair over and over again.

“He coulda hurt you,” Poe muttered, blinking his eyes rapidly. “It was my fault. If I weren’t here, if I hadn’t put my hands all over you-“

“I wasn’t upset by that – “

Poe gripped her waist, and she took a step towards him, her body moving before her mind even told it to. His breath was warm when it washed over her, and Rey took a deep, steadying breath from the intensity of their contact. Her hands went to his chest, still so wonderfully firm under his shirt, and she felt his hands twitch in restraint from where they held her. His eyes were tortured, though, and Rey, hopeful though she was, didn’t expect to feel his lips on hers. And indeed, Poe leaned forward until his chin was on her shoulder, and his forearms slid behind her back; he held her for a moment, and then two, and Rey moved to embrace him more fully – but Poe was letting her go, stepping away, and coughing.

“Sorry, “ he murmured, putting a fiver on the table behind him. “I just needed to – I’ll go now. I’m so sorry. Have a nice night, Miss Andor.”

“Poe, wait,” Rey tugged on his sleeve, but all he offered her was a sad smile before replacing his hat to tip it at her, none of his typical jauntiness present in the action.

Poe Dameron walked out of the pub without so much as a look back, and Rey sighed and returned to her stool. They had scheduled a date for Friday; surely he wouldn’t be so upset then, and they could talk. They could talk, and Rey could convince him that one man’s poor opinion could hardly have an effect on their relationship.

***

Friday came, and Rey made it through her day at work with little incident. She and Ben got a little closer to cracking the cipher issue the Americans had presented them with, and he gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder as they packed up for the day.

“You’re actually leaving?” Rey asked, pretending to clutch her heart and stumble back with a gasp of surprise. “Mr. Solo, is the world really coming to an end?”

“No,” Ben snorted, and gave her a rude hand gesture before looking over his shoulder surreptitiously. “I have a – date. With…Amy.”

“Ah.” Rey nodded in understanding. “I see. You need to get home and set your hair for the big evening.”

“Obviously.” Ben smirked at her as he clasped his bag and draped it over his shoulder. “You don’t have any room to tease, Miss Andor, I know you’re going home to get ready for your date with Dameron.”

“Guilty,” Rey acknowledged, smiling at Ben before a strange sadness kicked in and dampened the expression. Ben gave her a searching look.

“What is it?” He asked, frowning in concern. “Is he not treating you alright? Because if he isn’t, Rey, you don’t need to keep going on dates with him.”

“No,” Rey said hastily, knowing all too well about Ben’s terrible temper and his inclination to not ask before punching. If he weren’t a mathematician, she likes to think he would have been a boxer. “No, there’s just been some – trouble – recently. Not from him, but some people who think I should…” Rey trailed off, mortified to feel tears burning at her eyes.

“Think you should what?” Ben demanded, eyes blazing. “What happened?”

“At the pub on Wednesday,” Rey said miserably. “We were just talking, and Poe was being silly, and a man took it on himself to tell me that….that…” She blushed and looked down at her bag, fiddling with the straps. “That I should be dating a white man.”

“Oh.” Ben swore then, low and powerfully, and Rey looked up at him in surprise. He reached out to clasp her shoulder, offering her a sad smile. “I understand.” Of course he understood. Rey felt silly, then, that she’d let a few idiotic bastards upset her when Ben couldn’t so much as hold his sweetheart’s hand on the street without threat of violence. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it comfortingly.

They stood in silence for a moment before taking a deep breath apiece and reentering the world and whatever it had in store for them.

As Rey waited outside the Falcon at 7:05, she smoothed out the pleats of her dress. A strange nervous energy filled her, one that had been buzzing at the back of her mind since Wednesday. She’d taken Rose’s advice on makeup this week, and her hair was fixed to its best possible form; she’d never gotten this dressed up for a date before, and her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Rey hummed quietly to herself, her feet tapping along to the song while she looked down the street. Seeing the familiar car that dropped Poe off from Cheddington, driven by his friend, Snap, her spirits lifted immediately.

When he pulled up next to the curb, and the pilots emerged, Rey sought Poe out. But, he wasn’t there. Frowning, she walked up to Snap, who was smiling sadly at her.

“Where’s Major Dameron?” She asked curiously. Had he gotten here a different way? Had she gotten the day wrong? She’d been so busy at work, so tired, that it was a definite possibility.

“He ain’t coming, Miss Andor,” Snap answered. Her stomach tightened, and Rey felt her brow furrow in confusion.

“Is he ill?” Rey queried, gripping her bag. Foreboding washed over her, a feeling she was all too familiar with.

Snap looked at her, long and quiet, something unreadable in his eyes. “…Yeah.” He nodded at her, once. “Yeah, he’s … he’s sick, Miss Andor. I’ll – I’ll make sure he’s feelin’ well enough to come talk to you next week.” Rey nodded, and Snap tipped his hat to her respectfully. “You fancy a drink?” His question was kind, not flirtatious (his wedding ring glinted on his hand in the dying sunlight), but Rey shook her head anyway.

“No, thank you. Have a pleasant night, Snap.” She managed to smile at him before walking down the street, the back of her neck burning in mortification. Snap was a terrible liar. She’d been stood up.

And when Poe Dameron didn’t seek her out the following week – and didn’t make a single appearance at the Falcon, according to Chewie – that sense of foreboding curled with the promise of permanence inside of her, refusing to release its dark grip on her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Rey confronts Poe for standing her up; she reveals the truth of her past to him in her explanation of why she refuses to let fear control her life.
> 
> A translation:  
> Je n'ai aucune putain d'idée: "I have no fucking idea"
> 
> And Poe's well, let's just say Poe confesses a lot in his burst of Spanish.  
> But, I can tell you "tu risa es como del sol" = Your laughter's like the sun; and, "Podria escucharte reir para siempre" = I could listen to you laugh for forever.


	7. In the Blue of the Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe Dameron reflects on his recent failures with Rey Andor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song from title of chapter: the classic 1943 hit [In the Blue of the Evening](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mgi3Tk2Gue0)
> 
> Surprise (or not a surprise, if you follow me on tumblr) 
> 
> This is the Poe POV chapter for this fic! I wanted to give a brief look into his head, just so we could see where he's at after his decision to stand Rey up at the end of the last chapter. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry it took so long to update - I lost an old version of this document with a lot of stuff in it that I liked and it bummed me out and then I let that convince me to not update it for a while because whatever I was writing wasn't as good. Anyway! Hopefully we'll go back to twice weekly updates for this!

Poe flicked his cigarette into the gutter, grinding the heel of his boot into it. He hated smoking, really, but his anxiety had risen to the point of no control in the last week, and he’d turned to an unpleasant pastime in an attempt to soothe his nerves. It was hard to believe that it had only been a week, the days stretching into eternities, and every minute of the last eight days reminding him of what he did.

So yeah, it had been more than a week since what was probably, definitely the worst decision in a lifetime of not great decisions; a week since he took the best thing in his life and mangled it, ruined it; a week since he stood up Rey Andor for their date like the coward he was.

He was at a bar closer to Cheddington, and his buddies were inside, drinking blithely and blissfully unaware of how Major Poe Dameron had committed a major error with the kind of girl you didn’t just make mistakes with and walk away from in one piece.

The skies opened up – and of course they did, it had rained every day for eight days, terrifically poetic, his ma was laughing at him somewhere – and Poe trudged back into the bar, rubbing his jaw tiredly. He took a seat at the bar and not with his buddies in the corner and nodded at the man behind the counter, missing Chewie and the Falcon even as he signaled for another whisky. He drained it in one go, tossing it back with a practice that was really starting to disturb him, and he tapped his fingers on the bar – and it was the wrong wood, maple, not mahogany, and the decorations were wrong, and there were pretty girls here and there in the bar, but none of them were whip smart mathematicians who could read him the riot act and still expect a _thank you_ and an _I love you_ in response.

The overwhelming feeling of wrongness permeated the air, and Poe stared at the bottom of his empty glass, feeling overwhelmingly pathetic, wishing he’d gotten in Snap’s car earlier and driven out to the small village near Bletchley so he could at least stand outside the window of the Falcon and see her for a split second, try to plug up the hole in his heart for even a brief time. He wondered if she was laughing with that Ben Solo, who always seemed to be hanging around her at the park, who seemed to know her and knew how to make her smile, seemed to be her best friend and confidante in a way that had made his heart twinge even back when Poe was a little more sure that she cared for him.

Poe shook his head grimly. He and Rey had been going steady – she’d even come to think of him as her boyfriend, he _knew_ that, he knew it from that jackass confronting them last week, when she’d looked at him so hopefully when searching for a word to describe him (and what had he done, whathadhedone in response but turned tail and stayed away from her and he didn’t know what was worse – if she was just as upset by this as he was, or if she wasn’t upset at all) – and he couldn’t sit here and feel jealous while being guilty.

If Ben Solo was wooing his girl, well. He handed him the goddamn keys to the kingdom, didn’t he?

“Just looking at you is depressing me, Dameron.”

Poe looked up from his misery to see Snap grimacing at him. He leaned over the bar and asked for two waters, and the bartender looked more than happy to serve it to Poe. “Drink both of these, dumbass.” Snap slammed the glasses in front of Poe, and he drank the first slowly, avoiding his friend’s eyes.

Snap grabbed a tankard of the house ale and sat down next to him. His friend didn’t even look at him until he’d drained the first glass of water. “Thanks,” Poe said hoarsely, setting the glass down on the bar.

“Don’t thank me, you idiot,” Snap snorted and fixed him with a glare. “You should start with an apology.”

“Um…sorry?” Poe winced at how weak his own voice started. “Don’t get me wrong, Snap, I’m sure I have plenty to be sorry for, but uh – what exactly am I sorry for right now?” There was a veritable laundry list to be sure – the drinking, the smoking, the unkempt appearance.

“You need to apologize to me because last night I had to lie for the second time to a pretty little codebreaker up near Bletchley. You might remember her? Brown hair, half-green eyes, wears sweaters like she’s doing them a favor?”

“Hey, now.” Poe scowled at the crass comment; Snap didn’t get to talk about her figure.

“That was a Dameron quote, moron,” Snap tapped his ring finger obnoxiously. “Kare’s the only lady I need, you know that. But you’re the one who’s been sittin’ here mooning for months now, talkin’ my ear off, Arana’s ear off – you even tried talkin’ to Ematt before he told you where to shove it – about this special girl. And so yeah, you owe me an apology, and an explanation, for me having to drive half an hour just to tell a nice girl that her beau’s head is still rammed up his ass, and he won’t be there another Friday evening to take her out.”

“She – she was waiting for me?” Poe asked weakly.

“Regular as any timepiece, you ass.” Snap shook his head and fiddled with his tankard. “Looked like it damn near broke her heart when the fellas all got out of the car and you weren’t there. Looked like she was trying to pretend she wasn’t looking for you, but I knew. We all knew. Hell, Joe offered to buy her a drink and dance with her just to cheer her up, and you know he’s got two or three left feet.”

“He did?” Poe’s hackles raised immediately, but he forced himself to calm down; misery washed over him. “Oh.” They sat in silence for a second, and then Snap pivoted on the stool to look at him a split second before Poe asked quietly, “Did she say yes?”’

“I’m not justifying that with an answer.”

Poe nodded miserably, but before he could say anything else, Snap said sternly, “It’s your own damn fault for standing her up, Dameron.”

“I know that.” Fuck, had his voice always sounded so brittle? “Hell, I know that, Snap.”

 “So your own head be on it. You don’t mess around with a girl like Rey Andor.” He took a large sip of his beer to punctuate the statement, and the foam stuck in his beard.

“I’m not – I’m not messing around with her. Fuck, Wexley.” Poe wiped his face with his hand and left his chin cradled in his palm

“Yeah?” Snap didn’t look impressed, and Poe couldn’t exactly blame him. Hell, he wasn’t impressed with himself after last week’s failure. “Why’s that?”

He sighed and tried to figure out how to phrase it. “I’m not messing around with her because – because I’m pretty sure she’s the love of my life, and you don’t just mess around with that. But what can I give her? At the end of the day, I’m just some farmboy who doesn’t know his ass from his elbow. She’s too good for me. Knew it the second I saw her.”

“When was that, exactly?” Huh. Weird that he’d wax poetical about Rey every chance he got, and Snap still didn’t know how they met.

He started to tell the story, realized about ten seconds in that he was much drunker than he’d first thought, but kept going, caught up in the memory of that May morning: “Went in to Bletchley to listen to the geniuses talk. We almost hit a gal driving in, because of course we were driving on the wrong side of the road, boorish Yanks and all that; the stereotype exists for a reason. Barely got a good look at the girl, but knew she was a stunner. Figured I’d never see her again, and tried to put it out of my mind.

“So I’m in this meeting, and I’m bored outta my mind, questioning what shit twist of fate led me to this exact moment, and of course God answers, you know? The door opens, and _she_ walks in - it was like somethin’ out of the pictures, pal. The music swells out from the orchestra, sweeping over the room, the chairs, the officers, and me, spotlight shinin’ on her clear as anything, every head turns to look at her, and they can’t look away - she walks in like she’s walking on air, like she has no idea that her walking into this room is the best thing that’s gonna happen to me today, or any day. That’s before she opens her mouth and eviscerates every blockhead in a thirty mile radius; there’s no survivors, no prisoners. And just like that, I know. I know exactly who she is. She’s the girl I’ve been waiting for.“

“Hm.” Snap raised his eyebrows and didn’t comment any further. Poe jabbed at the peanut shells littering the countertop a little more aggressively than necessary.

“And I ruined it. I just – well, you know what happened. That’s twice now that she’s caught shit just for being seen with me – and – and you know what happened with my cousin—” Snap opened his mouth to argue, and Poe waved him off tiredly. “I know, I know, it was America, and it was the Depression, and everything was different, and I’m conflatin’ two ideas or whatever psychic mumbo jumbo you got outta your books. I get it. I get it. But I also don’t get why one of the most perfect, beautiful women to ever exist would give me the fuckin’ time of day, especially with all the trouble I brought her. The universe doesn’t even want us together – why put her in England, so far away from my fuckin’ life? Why make us both remember every ten goddamn seconds why the world doesn’t want us together? Mark my words, Wexley. She’s better off without me.”

“That,” Snap drained the rest of his beer and slammed the mug down. “Is the biggest crock of horseshit I ever did hear.” He stood up and clapped Poe on the shoulder. “Let me know when you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, you sorry asshole, and I’ll drive you to go see her myself.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Poe muttered. The drink and Snap’s account of Rey’s hurt feelings, and his own bitterness all worked together to convince him that he’d never, ever deserve a girl like Rey Andor.

Snap stood there a moment longer, and left Poe with: “The way you talk about her, Poe – that doesn’t happen more than once in a lifetime. And I’m not sayin’ you two don’t have real obstacles in your way, because of course you do. Even on top of all that other shit: we’re in the middle of a fuckin’ war, for God’s sakes – but buddy, there isn’t a thing on this blessed earth that woulda kept me from marrying my girl. You say you don’t deserve her? It’s bull. Poe Dameron deserves to love a girl who’ll love him back. But you keep going this way, being a coward, and not even tellin’ the woman you love why you won’t see her anymore…you keep being _that_ guy, and yeah, you’re right. You won’t deserve her.”

***

Monday morning rolled around, and Poe was mildly convinced that he was still drunk from his performance on Saturday night. Snap offered him a punch on the shoulder and a cup of coffee before early drills, and Poe drank it eagerly, only slightly wincing at the acidic taste.

Arana and the other guys didn’t give him as much shit as usual, and they listened soberly to the report of fallen pilots from units they’d trained with. Poe felt a different kind of grief weighing at his heart while they walked away from debrief and towards the hangar. Here he was, feeling sorry for himself, avoiding the woman who was undoubtedly the love of his life, and guys just like him, fuckin’ _kids_ even, were losing their lives over the continent.

He resolved to train harder, give his all to the cause – and also to make his way to Bletchley Park for some long overdue groveling and apologizing.

Poe rounded the corner, fiddling with a clasp on his flightsuit, and damn near choked on his own tongue.

Walking down the corridor with a tall, familiar figure was Rey Andor.

Ben was talking quietly to her, and she was nodding, brow furrowed, files clutched to her chest. She was wearing a pretty green sweater tucked into a brown skirt, and her hair was pinned back away from her lovely face, and Poe swore to God he heard angels singing, that the fluorescent lights shone just a little differently on her, that this was a mirage, that he’d hit his head and died –

And then she looked up, and a thousand and one emotions ran across her face, all of them underscored by a sadness that immediately kicked his heart right in the proverbial nuts.

A door opened to his left, and a stern, grey-haired woman – Leia Organa, Poe remembered, the definition of a Big Fucking Deal – popped her head out and beckoned to Ben and Rey. “We’re starting soon!” She said bossily, and Ben rolled his eyes at Rey, right before he spotted Poe.

Holy shit, if looks could kill, Poe would be pushing daisies. Ben tugged on Rey’s sleeve and jerked his head toward the conference room, but Rey had slowed down. “Just a moment,” he heard her whisper softly to her large companion. “Just – no, don’t do that.”

Ben must have threatened some bodily harm, judging by the scowl he sent his way. “I’ll be right inside,” he muttered to Rey before storming through the open door.

“Miss Andor,” Poe said weakly, hating how hard his heart had begun to beat. _Play it cool, real cool, you can do this, you love her, just don’t say you love her, she’s probably going to slap you, and you don’t want the first time you say you love her to be immediately followed by her slapping you._

“Major Dameron.” Her voice was cool, but he saw pain flash in her eyes, a sensation echoed in his own useless heart. Fuck, he’d put that pain there. He was an idiot. Her question of _where the hell have you been_ wasn’t said out loud, but then again, did it need to be?

“Look, Rey, I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you, and let me just say –”

Rey raised a slender hand and eyed the door next to her. “Not while I’m at work, Major. Meet me at The Falcon. Seven o’clock tonight. Not a minute later. Or I’ll figure you really are done with me, and I’ll move on.”

“That’s not—” Poe spluttered, but Rey shook her head at him and squared her shoulders.

“Seven o’clock, Major Dameron.” And she vanished through the door, and Ben closed it with a finality that rang through the now empty corridor.

Seven o’clock. That gave him nine hours to figure out what he was going to say to convince her not to dump his sorry ass, and give him one more chance.

Nine hours. He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Our duo has a long conversation about their pasts; Rey tells Poe why she doesn't believe in letting fear run her life


	8. And You Didn't Mind It At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe and Rey discuss heavy matters, but get their relationship back on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this chapter deals with heavy things!  
> WARNINGS for this chapter:  
> *TW: Race-based violence/homicide (in the past)  
> *TW: Alcohol-related death (mention)  
> *TW: Car accident (in the past - but the accident killed characters who canonically died)
> 
> No reference is graphic, but their backstories are upsetting, so be careful! If you make it to the end, I think you'll forgive me for the angst at the start.
> 
>  
> 
> The title of this chapter comes from ["I Had the Craziest Dream"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smmTbHdeX48)

When Rey walked up to The Falcon that evening, she felt a tremor of anxiety ripple down her spine. She shook her head against it and smoothed out her dress – a ‘revenge’ dress, Rose had called it, paired with revenge makeup. The red color wasn’t one she often went for, but it had been sitting in her closet for one reason or another, and Rose had tugged it out with a hoot of victory before demanding Rey wear it for her meeting with the major.

Now it was 6:57, and she was staring at the pavement for fear that no one would be there when she looked up. She had missed Poe, missed him viscerally – and she’d been furious with him as well, which had exhausted her. Rey was used to dealing with her anger head-on, not one to repress and pack away. If they’d just been able to talk last week – but no, he’d been a right coward, and she needed to give him a piece of her mind over it. But the memory of his face when they’d spoken earlier that day crept into her mind unbidden. He’d looked haggard, more tired than she even felt, and he’d looked at her with such pain, and hope, and a thousand other complex things she wanted to ask him about.

Rey knew that her feelings for the major had fallen into a depth that went beyond affection or familiarity or flirtation. With him skipping out on her last week…she had feared her deepening attachment was one-sided. But now, she was going to get the truth out of him, and she was going to let him know exactly what kind of person she was.

She squared her jaw and looked up as she reached the Falcon, and _thank God,_ Poe Dameorn was standing out front, his eyes already on her. He’d shaved from this morning – how he’d gotten away with that scruff was beyond her reckoning, but he’d looked dreadfully dashing with it, _not now, Andor, move along_ – and his uniform looked smart, but his expression was still haunted, afraid. That wouldn’t do. She did need to yell at him, but she wasn’t going to draw and quarter him.

Taking mercy on the man, Rey walked up swiftly, and when he whispered, “Evenin’, Miss Andor,” she stepped in and brushed a kiss to his cheek, her own cheeks flushing at her boldness, her hand gripping his shoulder for balance. She pulled away and offered him a tight smile and was rewarded by a look of dumbfounded, tentative hope on her pilot’s face.

“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to buy me a drink?” She asked lightly, gesturing into the pub. Poe nodded and followed her in, still silent. Rey waved at Chewie, and realizing there was a foot of space between herself and Poe, she tugged him closer by the elbow and walked up to the bar. She ordered two pints and walked to a small, corner booth, leaving Poe to grab the drinks. He appeared a minute later, red under his collar.

“Did Chewie threaten dismemberment?” Rey asked.

“Something like that, yeah,” Poe muttered, setting her drink in front of her before settling in himself. They both drank for a moment, Rey stopping first, so she could watch the column of his throat move as he sipped the ale.

When the pint glass returned to table, Rey leaned in, frowning. “This is the part where you explain yourself, Major.”

Poe nodded, misery flashing across his features. “I – I’m sorry, Rey, you have no idea how sorry I am.” She didn’t move a muscle, not wanting to let him off the hook already, not wanting him to know that the agony in his voice was going a long way in lessening her anger. “I was an ass, and a fool, and I never shoulda stood you up – I just …” Poe bit his lip and looked down at his lap, his fingers fidgeting on the oak of the table. “You gotta know, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wanted the opposite of that. And it’s twice now, twice that some jackass has put his hands on you because of me, and if anything happened to you because of me, I don’t know how I’d live with myself.” He dragged his hands through his hair, causing the short curls to stand up slightly.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” Rey said, reaching across the table to take his hands in her own. “Trust me, Poe, I can handle myself.”

“I know that,” Poe laughed without mirth and looked at her, his eyes rimmed with red – he was crying. “Shit, I know that, but…you see…” His mouth opened but all that came out was a self-deprecating huff. Rey stroked his inner wrists and palms for a moment, and waited for his shoulders to stop shaking. When he next spoke, he didn’t lift his head. “My cousin, back in the States. Ernesto. He lived in Texas and…he had a sweetheart, and uh – people didn’t exactly…approve. He caught a few beatings over it, but…he loved her, you know? Proposed and everything. She loved him too, didn’t give a damn what people thought. Her family threw her out, so they moved in together.” He stopped, his mouth working over something.

“What was her name?” Rey asked softly.

“Julia. But…” Rey flinched physically when he lifted his eyes to her face. “One night, at their house, there was a—” He shook his head, shoulders curling upwards as he finished, skipping what Rey was sure, her stomach clenching, were horrible details. “He survived. She didn’t. Police refused to investigate even though it was the only house that was targeted, and – and Ernesto.” Poe flipped his hands over and squeezed Rey’s. “He went back home, and not a year later he drank himself to death.”

“Poe,” She whispered, heart feeling the fissures of what he’d just told her. “Oh, darling.” Poe shook his head and pulled a hand away to wipe at his eyes quickly and cover his mouth as though he could force his grief back inside. She held the hand still on the table with both of hers, and on instinct, brought her lips down to brush his knuckles. “That’s absolutely horrible, and I’m so sorry for your family, and for Julia.” He nodded but didn’t look up.

So, she asked: “Were you afraid that something similar would happen to us?”

“How could I not be?” Poe whispered, agonized. “How – it destroyed me to see those marks on your arm, Rey, to see how that man spoke to you. If that had gone any further, if you’d really been hurt, or, or worse…”

“So you made my decision for me? Lived in fear for the both of us, and kept me in the dark, like I’d wilt or run at the first sign of trouble?” Rey asked, arching an eyebrow. Poe looked at her again, and he laughed once, weakly, at her thunderous expression. She sighed, schooling her features, and decided to give him a part of herself. “My father wasn’t white. He was from Spain, but his family wasn’t of European descent.”

Whatever Poe had been expecting her to say, that clearly wasn’t it. Some of the misery lost his face as curiosity won out. “Not meaning any offense here, but you don’t look anything but white,” he said carefully.

“I am, yes,” Rey smiled at his confusion. “Mama had me when she was in her last year of university. Papa met her when I was almost three. He liked to say he fell in love with both of us.” Rey can’t keep the fond note out of her voice. “His name was Cassian Andor, and he gave my mother his name and all his love, and she gave him a home. And…” Rey trailed off, her throat closing slightly. “He gave me a father. I loved him, so, so much. And people didn’t exactly approve of their marriage, but they couldn’t say a damn thing about it because my mother was terrifying.”

“I’m shocked,” Poe said teasingly, knocking his knee into hers under the table. It made Rey honestly smile, no matter how painful the next part of her story was going to be, it made her grin to have some of Poe’s silly affection back.

She fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself and instead looked at Poe straight on. “When you chose not to show up the last two times, I – I worried that you didn’t return my feelings.” Poe opened his mouth, already upset, but she raised his hands and he bit back whatever he was going to say. “No, no, but I know now that you were afraid. But if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I refuse to let fear dictate my life.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Rey’s voice was firm, but not cruel. “We could die at any time, Poe, something terrible could happen at any point in our lives. And if we hide indoors, never having lived, then that’s—” she shook her head quickly, feeling some of her hair fall out of the arrangement that had been carefully made by Rose. “That’s not living. I refuse to live that way. Bad things happen all the time, and I know that better than most people.”

She cut herself off, the pain of it rising sharply, and Poe scooted towards her on his seat, his knees interlocking with hers. The point of contact gave her some comfort, and she whispered, “I never talk about this with anyone, not even Leia, who _knew_ my parents. But…I want to share it with you, because I need you to understand.”

“Okay,” Poe nodded. “Okay, sweetheart, I’m listening.”

 _Alright, Andor, let’s go._ “My father and my mother had no small amount of money. My mother had inherited hers, and my father had … come by it during the Great War, through … commission, I suppose you could say. But he made a good deal of enemies, something my mother already had in spades. When I was fourteen years old…” Rey stopped for a moment, and one look in Poe’s patient, kind eyes let her continue.

“I went for a drive with my parents on December 16, 1936. We were all in the back seat. Mama had wanted to take the train, but Papa’s driver needed to go south anyway, so there we were.”

_Cassian had been on the driver’s side, Rey in the middle, her mother next to her. They’d been laughing with Kay, who had pretended to have forgotten Christmas was coming up. Cassian had leaned forward and knocked Kay’s hat goofily, making the tall man squawk in faux-indignation. They’d been so, so happy._

“We were driving up the Scarif coast after dusk, when there were headlights in front of us. Papa looked confused when the lights passed us and then circled around to follow us.” _His arm had gone around Rey’s shoulders, holding her close, and Jyn had traded looks with him over Rey’s head._

In the present, Poe was leaning forward more, to grip Rey’s hands which had been shaking. “They hit us from behind, and then another car appeared head on, and forced us off the road. Kay did everything he could, but we went over the cliff.” _Jyn had pulled a gun out of nowhere and leveled it at the windshield, firing at the oncoming driver._ “The last thing I remember, my father had thrown himself over me. I don’t know how I didn’t die. By all accounts, I should have died. Broke six ribs, punctured a lung, shattered my collarbone. My parents died on impact, Kay too, and I – I had to unbuckle, and climb over my own mother to get out of the car because it was filling with water—” Her voice cracked, and Poe stood quickly and came around to her side of the booth, sitting next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  _She'd waited for six hours before help arrived, sitting on a rock, staring at the surface of the water where her family had vanished. She hadn't spoken for three months, and it was Ben Solo who'd gotten her to talk again._

Rey finished what she needed to say while staring at the table, Poe’s hand at her cheek, wiping away the tears that had collected.

“I was fourteen years old when my parents died on either side of me. I don’t like getting into cars, Poe, but I do. I avoid it if I can, but there are times it can’t be avoided, and I’ll be damned if I let the past dictate the way I live my life. I owe it to my parents to keep going. And from what I’ve heard about your mother, she wouldn’t want you throwing the towel in either just because you were afraid. It’s not fair that we have to bear our parents’ legacies, but that’s the hand we were dealt, Dameron. So let’s make them proud, and live our lives correctly, without fear. Can you do that?” Tears still drying on her face, she looked at Poe, and he nodded solemnly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She nuzzled into him for a moment, enjoying that they were obscured from most patrons’ eyes in the pub. His other arm wrapped around her so he was holding her, really holding her, and she enjoyed the passing moments fully.

When they pulled apart, Poe returned to his side of the table, and they spoke of their weeks as though they hadn’t been separated by fear and loss. Poe looked more animated than usual, which was saying something, and he frequently picked up Rey’s hand and pressed a kiss into the back of it, sending her heart into overdrive each time.

Around 9:00, Rey smiled at Poe and said, “Don’t you need to be returning to the car, Poe? I imagine Snap would like to head back to base soon.”

“He lent me the car,” Poe smirked at her, and her insides fluttered uselessly. “Said he had a feeling I’d be groveling all night, and he didn’t want to wait around for that.”

“In that case,” Rey stood and so did Poe. “Would you walk me home?”

“It’d be my honor,” he said softly. She took his hand, and they walked out the doors together.

They walked through the village as it began to settle down for the night, its occupants going to their beds, and Rey leaned into Poe’s shoulder perhaps more than was necessary. Their evening had begun fraught with anxiety, haunted by the ghosts of their pasts – she still shuddered to think of what had happened to Poe’s family – but they were both still here. Poe was here, he’d come back for her. She hadn't waited for nothing.

“I’m right up ahead,” Rey said, pointing at the building where she rented her flat.

“This is almost goodbye, then,” Poe smiled wistfully at her, his eyes crinkling. “Would it be alright if I asked what you were doing this Friday, ma’am?”

“I would have hoped I was going out with you,” Rey returned easily, and Poe grinned at her impertinence. They neared her stoop, and she fidgeted with her keys. “But would you like to come in, Major?” Rey asked, eyeing her door, and then looking back at Poe.

“I don’t know, ma’am,” Poe blushed, that much was evident in the low light, even on his tan skin. “I don’t want you to think I expect anything from you.”

“And what if I expect something from you?” Rey asked, hoping he’d recognize it as cheek and not a demand. He smiled at her, so she supposed he did. “Even if we just talk. I’d…I don’t want the night to end, yet.” There was so much more they had to say, had to share, had to do. They’d missed over ten days of time where they could have been exploring this together, and Rey didn’t want to waste another second.

“I guess I don’t either.” Poe coughed and then ducked his head for a second. He looked back up, a real smile teasing his mouth. “We could always talk about the new picture.”

“I do love Betty Grable,” Rey smiled, purring internally from the victory. She held her hand out to Poe while she reached behind herself to open the door. They walked up the steps, Rey going backwards up into the apartment, pulling him along after her. He came very willingly. “She is very lovely.”

“She’s got nothing on present company, ma’am.” It was Rey’s turn to blush, especially after Poe kicked the door shut behind him, leaned against it, and locked it blindly, confidently, as though he’d been there before (as though he’d always belonged there, but she banished the thought). He rested his head against the wood and smiled at her with hooded eyes.

“You’re all talk, Major,” Rey laughed. She knew she was not a beauty; it wasn’t something that necessarily bothered her. Her mama had taught her to be strong, and her papa had taught her to be clever, and she was the best at her job, and that was enough. Beauty was a frivolity; it was unnecessary. “I’m no beauty, and that’s quite alright.”

Major Dameron staring at her under the dim front hall light of her apartment made her think otherwise, though. She wanted him to look at her and find her attractive, she realized with a deepening blush. She wanted.

He swallowed before speaking, his hands twitching at his sides. “Don’t you know, sweetheart?” He murmured, pushing off from the door to stand closer to her. Heat radiated from his body, and Rey found herself not entirely immune to it, found herself drawn to it. _Like a moth to the flame,_ part of her mind whispered. _If this is what that saying means, then I am all too happy to burn._

“Don’t I know what?” She asked when he didn’t keep speaking. His hand lifted to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice was so serious, it could have been an oath. “And I know I’ve made mistakes, and I welcome the idea that you’ll make me pay for them in the future because I deserve it, but. I’d very much like to kiss you.”

“Really?” Rey found it within herself to sound at least a little cheeky, to cover up her nerves. “You would?”

“More than anything.” Poe’s smile was very close to her own, she discovered. Their noses brushed when she tilted her chin up to stare at him challengingly.

“Then you better get on with it, then.” It drew a laugh from him, a real laugh that started in his chest – and that was how close they were, she could feel the origin of his laughter rumbling deep inside his body – and one hand came to rest on the small of her back, drawing her in further, and his other hand came up to run wondering fingers over her cheekbone, her jawbone, her bottom lip. “Well?”

“Just let me take my time with you, babydoll,” Poe murmured, his eyes flickering between her mouth and her eyes. Something stuttered in her chest at the nickname, something spooling loose inside of her, demanding that she get him to repeat it, to whisper it in her ear, right now, again, _need it._ “I wanna do this right.”

“I’d prefer you do it at all, at this rate,” Rey scolded. She bit her tongue against _there’s a war going on, Major._ He knew that, perhaps even better than she did.

“You ever been properly kissed before?” Gone was the shy, stumbling Poe who managed to trip over his tongue every five seconds – here was the major whose suave charm had the secretary pool tittering for weeks after a single date with one of their own. And he was here, with her, looking at _her_ like this. “Tell me, sweetheart, you ever been kissed by a guy who knew how?”

“Never been kissed before at all,” Rey admitted, the heat in her body overwhelming every ounce of reason she had, consuming her logic, her self-control evaporating. Hell, if he pressed her against that door and made violent love to her, she wouldn’t complain, and would probably loudly approve.

“What?” Poe’s breath caught, and he was slightly more his usual, bashful self. “How—”

“Never wanted anyone to,” Rey whispered, realizing that somehow she suddenly had the upper hand, despite her lack of experience. Poe licked his bottom lip, looking nervous. “I never – I’ve never felt like this about anyone.” It must have been the light, but Poe’s pupils had expanded, his brown eyes almost black. The effect made her breath catch more, but also made her bold enough to say, “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Major Dameron.”

“Hell,” Poe croaked, his hands tight on her waist, pulling her flush to his body once more. “Before we do this, sweetheart, you need to know – you need to know how damn sorry I am that I wasn’t there for you. I’ll never do it again, I swear, I swear on the stars, and the Bible, and my mother’s grave. Neither hell nor high water’s going to keep me from your side. And I’m tellin’ you this so you know how important this is to me, how important _you_ are to me, and I need you to know – I’m afraid that if I kiss you, I’m never gonna want to kiss anyone else, ever again.”

“Are you going to do it, then?” Rey asked, full aware that she could bridge the distance herself and he wouldn’t complain. But she liked this small dance of theirs, the way he’d lean in and pull back as though he could barely stop himself, liked the way her heart skipped each time his breath blew across her face.

“Impatient,” Poe teased, “Bossy.” Rey nodded, cheerfully aware that she was both of those things, and then he closed the distance once and for all.

The heat in her body narrowed down to two specific points – where his lips met hers, and his hands on her waist and the small of her back. She gasped, realizing that he could cover the entire span of her waist with his hands, and he took advantage of her gasp to lean in further, deepening the kiss from where it had previously been a press of lips.

Thank God he knew what he was doing, or Rey would be hopelessly caught up in the logistics of it – where to put her nose, how to angle her head. One of his hands drifted up her back slowly, until it cupped the back of her head, tilting it slightly so he could slip his lips over hers in a different pattern. Their mouths slid together in a way she wasn’t aware she knew, but seemed to follow on instinct, and through Poe’s careful guidance.

He tasted like the cheap beer they’d shared at the Falcon, and something else, something deeper and masculine, the smell of his cologne triggering something primal inside of her. She needed _more,_ needed – his tongue swiped against her lip, and she made a noise definitely not befitting a lady, but it was met with a growled approval from Poe, who pulled her impossibly closer. Her hands had made their way to his chest, and she clutched the fabric of his shirt, making another needy noise in her throat.

Poe laughed gently, the puff of air trading from his mouth to hers, and she damn near felt like swooning, just like a sad damsel in a feature.

They pulled apart after what could have been an eon, and Poe rested his forehead on hers. “Coulda fooled me,” he whispered into the minimal space between their mouths.

“Hmm?” Rey asked, too flustered to logically follow.

“That was your first kiss?” Poe laughed sweetly and ducked down to kiss her once more, briefly, chastely. “Never woulda thought it.”

She opened her mouth to invite him to stay, but Poe pulled back more sharply, and smoothed out his shirt, smiling ruefully at her. “I should go, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, her voice husky and unfamiliar to her own ears. “You could stay.”

“I shouldn’t,” he said, hesitantly. “Not tonight.”

Rey nodded, trying to categorize it as not a rejection. It helped when Poe stepped forward one more time, caught her around the waist, and kissed her passionately, one hand on her cheek. They staggered apart, Poe breathing heavily once more.

“Yeah,” he said. “I should – I should go. I’ll see you on Friday, Miss Andor?”

“Seven o’clock,” she confirmed, trying not to grin like an absolute fool. Beebee crept out of the bedroom where he’d been lurking and wove around her ankles, meowing curiously at Poe. “Don’t forget, you own half of this beast. He should get to know you better.”

“Sounds good,” Poe said, still staring at her face like he was enraptured by what he saw; his hand fumbled for the doorknob, and Rey walked over to help him with the lock. She earned another kiss for her troubles, and a quiet, “Goodnight, sweetheart,” and then he was gone, walking down the steps and out into the night.

And if she watched him walk away from her window, watched him with his hands in his pocket and a spring in his step, well.

She was allowed to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things coming up in future chapters:
> 
> Movie Dates!  
> Poe and Rey getting closer!  
> Ben/Armitage getting closer!  
> And...  
> The war will rear its head and make demands of our couple.


	9. Deeper by Far Than Any Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe and Rey move forward in their relationship, and grow more in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (it's fluff. it's all just fluff).
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter title: comes from ["Day by Day"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Abc_X6Y66HM) by Sinatra - it wasn't actually recorded for another year after this, but it fit, so, we are with our inaccuracy, having a great time with bops from the 40s.

August 26, 1944

“We’re under attack!”

A raucous chorus of voices sounded from Rey’s living room, and she rolled her eyes at Rose while putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Rose gave her a nod of approval, and they walked out arm in arm to discover the source of the ruckus.

Poe Dameron and Ben Solo were screeching as a lanky, orange and white blur pounced on their feet eagerly. Poe dramatically staggered to the ground, and Bletchley Baby took his chance to jump on Poe’s once-neatly ironed dress shirt, leaving a scattering of dander in his wake. “Go on without me, Solo!” Poe shouted at Ben, who rushed from the scene hollering for the Red Cross.

Ben stumbled directly into Rose, who caught him by the arms and helped prop him upright. The girls dissolved into laughter at the sight of the genius mathematician’s honest fear of the small beast still engaged with the pilot on the floor – while Poe’s terror was dramatized and silly, Rey knew that Ben’s was a little less feigned (“It _bites,_ ” Ben had protested once, when Rey had teased him for the way he squeaked when BB made too sudden of a movement near him).

“Let’s head outside, Ben,” Rose suggested gamely, smiling wide. “We can wait for your friend on the street.”

“Oh?” Ben stopped staring at BB in horror to look at Rose.

“Yes, oh.” She smirked at him. “I don’t think Armitage really could be expected to find his way up here on his own, do you?”

“No, I suppose not.” Ben smiled nervously and followed Rose out the door. Rey smiled after them; Rose had never been precisely filled in on the nature of Ben and Armitage’s relationship, but she had whispered to Rey once, after a conversation with Ben, that her sister Paige was very happy living with her female roommate of ten years – so she had a feeling Rose was more than supportive of Ben.

A moment after the door had closed, Poe leapt to his feet, successfully clutching a now purring Baby.

“Where’d everybody go?” Poe asked, his hand absentmindedly scratching BB’s neck. The kitten’s pointy teeth gnawed at the meat of Poe’s hand, but he continued scratching, undeterred.

“I think that was Rose’s sneaky way of giving us a moment alone before lunch,” Rey teased.

“Is that so?” Poe took a few sauntering steps forward, the devil in his smile. His once neatly controlled curls were in a disarray, and his cheeks were flushed from the game of a few minutes prior.

“Yes,” Rey nodded, and gathered her handbag primly. “She said something about how upsetting it was to sit next to you for a whole movie and not be able to – what was the phrase? Neck?”

Poe snorted, and then he was within arm’s length of her. He smiled lazily, his eyes slightly hooded, and he rested on the back of her couch while she slipped her shoes on. BB continued his exploration of Poe’s pain tolerance, and when Rey straightened up, smoothing the lines of her blue dress, she caught Poe staring at her openly.

“What’s gonna stop me from doing just that?” He asked cheekily. Rey swatted his arm, and Poe used his free hand to tug her close, his forearm pressing against her back while she stumbled forward between his legs. He was slightly shorter than her like this, but she felt strangely small in his gaze, in his embrace, the heady look in his brown eyes almost enough to get her to combust.

Bletchley Baby meowed plaintively, and Poe released him without further ado. The kitten scampered down the side of the couch and disappeared into the flat, and Poe wrapped his other arm around her.

“Maybe we should get the necking out of the way now, huh?” he licked his bottom lip sinfully, and Rey nodded, smiling faintly even as the blood roared in her ears. Poe leaned in, and soon, his hand was in her hair, his tongue was in her mouth, and hers in his, and she thrilled at the way his breath quickened as her fingers scratched at his scalp.

A most inopportune knock sounded at the front door, and through it Ben Solo hollered, “We’re going to be late if you two don’t hurry up. Armitage is waiting downstairs, and our reservation is for five o’clock, sharp!”

“Alright, alright,” Poe shouted back, raising an eyebrow at Rey. She kissed his brow, smoothing it out with her thumb, and he relaxed fully, sinking forward until his forehead rested on her collarbone. “Just a few more seconds,” he whispered, for her ears only.

***

Supper was enjoyable: Armitage had procured a reservation at one of the nicer establishments nearby, and he had a private driver come and pick them up, and then drop them off after. He’d even picked up the bill, claiming it was absolutely his pleasure to treat his lovely, young friends.

(Rey prayed to God that Poe hadn’t quite caught the look of utmost admiration Armitage had sent Ben’s way during that statement, and luckily Poe had turned to kiss her on the cheek and had missed it entirely).

When Armitage dropped them back off outside Rey’s flat, Rose hopped out and waved merrily before trotting down the street towards home. Rey stood and wished Ben a good night, while Poe stretched behind her.

She looked quickly to see how far away Poe was – not close enough to overhear her when she leaned into the window and whispered, "Take good care of him, Armitage.”

Ben blushed at the same time Armitage winked at her. “I intend to. Always a pleasure, Ms. Andor.”

Rey waved regally, a gesture returned by Hux as his car pulled away from the curb. Ben was still overcoming his mortification for having been the target of Rey and Armitage’s teasing. She’d just have to figure out a way to seek absolution on Monday.

But for now:

Poe Dameron stood waiting for her in the dying light of the day, his smile broad and welcoming, his arm warm when she slipped her hand through it. They walked towards The Falcon, and Poe whispered a hundred and one things of little importance, and incredible significance, as they neared his friends.

Snap grinned at them when they drew up to his car – Arana was there as well, and so were Johnson and his sweetheart, a nice girl from town. They all piled in, and Rey ended up perched on Poe’s lap – somehow.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, embarrassed to hell and back, if the blush on his face was any indication. Rey shrugged, and his arms wrapped around her waist, securing her in place as Snap drove off into the night towards RAF Cheddington.

They were heading to a movie screening on base, put on to improve the pilots’ morale. The war had been dragging as the Germans accepted tactical surrender after surrender, and the boys were tired, all of them homesick. Rey knew her own pilot was homesick – caught him staring into the distance sometimes, more and more of his conversations including references to his father, and sunny beaches – and when he’d invited her, she couldn’t say no. Not when her ‘yes’ inspired such a thrilled look of inspiration, as though there were no greater favor she could pay him than go to this event at his side.

Now, they drove along the bumpy road, sometimes unpaved, and Rey was jostled into Poe’s chest more and more. “It’s okay,” he whispered after ten minutes of her trying to sit as primly as possible. “Really, sweetheart, you’re lighter than air, you don’t have to—” a particularly vicious pothole had Rey gripping the top of Poe’s bicep, and after that, she shrugged, wrapped her arms around Poe’s neck, tucked her feet between his shins, and gave up slightly on the appearance of propriety.

The company in the car didn’t mind at all; in fact, she doubted they even noticed. Johnson and Beth were whispering something to themselves, and Arana was discussing some sort of sporting event with Snap in the front seat.

“Did you plan this?” Rey asked, whispering her question in Poe’s ear. She had a thrilling position of being able to feel the spasm of his throat before he answered.

“No, ma’am.” She smirked, not believing him fully, and his hands briefly adjusted their grip on her hip and waist. “But I can’t say I’m complaining.”

Another pothole, another somewhat rough landing on Poe’s lap. This time, he grunted slightly, but from what little she could see of his face through the darkened interior of the car, and the awkward angle, Rey could see that it hadn’t exactly been a grunt of pain.

“Major Dameron!” Rey said, pretending to be scandalized. He shot her a look of terror, and then looked over at Johnson and his date, relaxing noticeably when both were confirmed to be still oblivious to Poe’s growing interest in the proceedings.  “I’m not complaining either,” she whispered, leaning in so her lips were right under his ear. She let them brush against the skin behind his jaw, just for a moment, and Poe’s intensely tight grip on her caused a rush of heat she’d never experienced before.

“Here we are!” Snap announced from the front seat, and Rey returned to her prim and proper posture from before, gladly accepted Arana’s offer of a hand to help her get out of the car.

“You coming, Dameron?” Arana asked, resting his hand on top of the car, while frowning in at Poe.

“In a second,” Poe answered weakly. Arana tapped the hood of the car, straightened up, followed Snap towards the rec hall, the back of his neck glowing red, his eyes significantly avoiding contact with Rey’s.

“Major?” Rey smiled down at the pilot, who looked distinctly ruffled.

“Coming,” he mumbled.

They walked arm in arm towards the rec hall, and Snap was waiting for them at the door with a broad, knowing wink, and a bag of popcorn. “Let’s go get seats, lovebirds,” he teased.

“Oh, hush,” Poe said, with a more normal tone to his voice.

“Hush, nothing,” Snap retorted. “I’m all alone while my Kare’s savin’ lives. If she were here though, we’d give even you two a run for your money.”

Rey laughed at Snap’s claim while they took their seats, and Poe wasted no time in scooting his closer to hers until their knees brushed. “This okay?” He asked, as the lights dimmed and the crowd settled down.

“Wait a second,” Rey whispered, and Poe froze solid to his seat. She giggled at his immediate immobility, and scooted her own chair a little closer, snuggling in to his arm, twining their hands together. “Perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” Poe said solemnly, his eyes catching hers in a way that had her missing the title cards for the movie.

“You’re disgusting,” Snap reminded them, throwing a few kernels at Poe. He fussed at his friend, and Rey spent the next thirty seconds picking pieces of popcorn out of Poe’s short curls. As her fingers brushed along his scalp, she spent a moment wondering what his hair would look like out of its military style. She didn’t get long to dwell on it, for soon Poe had caught her wrist, kissed her fingertips, and nodded at the screen.

Bing Crosby sang about churches and morality, while fighting for control of some tiny little parish in New York City. It was a charming enough feature – Rey much preferred films like _Coney Island_ or _Frankenstein_ – but what was really charming was how Poe’s face lit up with each new song on screen. She had a feeling he’d be humming the tunes for the weeks to come, and she found that she greatly looked forward to it.

Her own heart was not immune to Crosby’s priestly charms; by the end of the movie, she was crying as he sang his Irish lullaby while he attempted to heal the rifts in his newly adopted parish. Poe leaned in and kissed her dampened cheeks, feather-soft, and Rey smiled and sniffed. Before she could wipe her eyes, Poe handed her his handkerchief, and she thanked him softly. Her response was another kiss on the cheek, and an arm around her shoulders – and that was how Snap found them when the lights turned back on, Poe’s arm slung on the back of her chair, their legs pressed together, her head on his shoulder.

“Like I said,” Snap said, throwing more popcorn back. “Disgusting.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a fluffy time  
> so much fluff
> 
> Chapter 10.  
> I wonder what could happen.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (ps the chapters might be a little shorter until the end, just because there's a lot of stuff i want to cover, and quickly, because I've made you wait long enough!)


	10. In Every Lovely Summer's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The month of September passes by; the arrival of autumn brings some significant changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why, hello

September 2, 1944

“Are you coming?” Rose hollered, her hands cupping her mouth. She stood knee-deep in the lake, the rocky shore matching the color of the water. The young woman was wearing loose yellow shorts over a bathing suit, and she looked cute as a button – Rey felt more than a little self-conscious of the deep green swimpiece she had selected to wear that day.

Her towel was wrapped around her shoulders, and she waved to Rose to signal that she needed another second.

The sun emerged from behind a cloud – it was growing slightly weaker as summer waned, but it was a mostly clear day, and absolutely gorgeous. They had piled into Snap’s car and drove to the nearby lake – Snap and Poe had a full two days off, a rarity, and they wanted to utilize their time as much as possible – and if Rey squinted, she could see Ben Solo standing in the shade some two hundred meters away from the shoreline.

The sight of her pale friend made her laugh, but her laugh was quickly vanquished by Poe’s appearance.

He strode out from the changing stations, stretching his arms, and Rey’s mouth went _dry._

Distantly, analytically, she wondered at her body’s reaction. It had certainly never reacted that way before.

But here Poe Dameron was, tanned and lean and fit in the fading summer sun, his black curls catching the light somehow, his skin golden and smooth. A smattering of hair on his chest and navel revealed to Rey that she might _actually_ be interested in such a thing in a man, after a lifetime of not even considering it, and the muscles of his stomach looked particularly tempting to explore.

His swimming trunks were the worst part of it.

His _swimming trunks._

They were, quite honestly, more revealing than Rey’s own suit. Whereas hers covered her from collarbone to the tops of her thighs, Poe’s suit left little to the imagination. And oh, did she imagine.

His trunks were such a dark shade of blue, they were almost black, and they were obscenely short, hanging low on his hips. Rey tried her hardest not to stare at the outline of his body, and instead fixed her eyes on his handsome face (an easy task) and smiled brightly at him.

“Coming in with me, Sunshine?” Poe asked, once he’d reached their blankets and umbrella.

“Mhm,” Rey managed to squeak. And then she didn’t move, or even take the hand he offered her.

“Well?” Poe seemed smugly aware of what was going through her mind, so Rey took control once more by throwing her blanket to the floor – reveling in the lust-addled look of shock that crossed her pilot’s face – and ran towards the water full-tilt.

Rose and Snap cheered her own, and she crashed into the water, laughing merrily as she kicked up a fair bit of sand and surf along her path.

They all waved Poe in, who grinned and sprinted towards them, before leaping at the last second, and landed with a spectacular splash to their left. Immediately, he screamed, and Rey’s heart jolted.

“What the FUCK?” Poe yelled, stumbling towards the shore. “What the ever-loving _fuck_ is that?”

“Is there some kind of fish?” Rose asked, tilting her head curiously at the spot Poe had so quickly vacated.

Beside them, Snap began to roar with laughter. “No,” he gasped, clutching his side, “No, no – the major – he—” he laughed harder, tears filling his eyes.

“Yeah, yuck it up,” Poe said, rubbing his hands over his arms. Rey stared at him, her initial worry replaced by confusion. “It’s just – what the _fuck_ is wrong with this lake?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it?” Rey said, staring down the clean, bright sand, the spots in the distance of other visitors.

“Then why,” Poe said slowly, hands outstretched. “The _fuck_ is this water so cold?” Rey and Rose both stared at him then, and Rey knew for a fact she couldn’t hide the amusement on her face. “Seriously! I’m from Miami! Water is supposed to be warm!”

“Poe,” Rey laughed, “Poe, darling, this is _England._ ”

“And your English water is broken,” Poe retorted. He turned tail and fled back up to the blankets. “I’m stickin’ with Solo.”

Rey laughed and laughed with Rose and Snap for a few more seconds, before the girls resumed splashing each other half heartedly. Snap joined Poe on shore a few minutes later, and soon they were all stretched out on the towels, enjoying the pleasantly warm rays of sun.

She felt particularly drowsy in the light, and she basked in the feeling, surrounded by her loved ones (Ben had even come creeping down towards the waterline, glowering distrustfully at the sun and water the whole time. He was now safely ensconced under the umbrella, still wearing a shirt and pants). It was such a terrific way to spend a weekend, and the happiness she felt didn’t feel particularly fleeting. It was easy, and filled her with a soft, glowing sense of peace.

She already knew: September was going to be a good month.

***

September 14, 1944

“Are we boring you?” Rey tapped her folder against Ben’s head, and he turned halfway on his perch up on their desk to smile at her.

“Exceptionally.” His eyes flickered back to the board where they’d been hard at work, deciphering a recent set of messages they’d intercepted.

“You’ve been more quiet than normal, recently,” Rey pointed out. Ben shrugged, a single shoulder’s movement, his jaw working in a way that only served to make her more nervous. “Did we do something to offend?”

He and Leia had actually fought, in public, a few days ago. Something silly, about Ben’s following of protocol. He was a little unorthodox, honestly, but he also got results, more so than most of the huts combined. His deviance from expectations had never been a cause for redress in the past.

When Ben didn’t respond, Rey stood in front of him, blocking his view. He huffed and made to stand up, but Rey gripped his shoulder and pushed him back down. They were alone in the conference room, so she whispered, “Is this about…Amy?”

“What? No,” Ben shook his head, “No. No, that’s the least of my…no.”

“Then what is it?”

Ben sighed and pinched his nose. “They’re starting a new office in London. The powers that be have asked me to help operate it.”

“Oh?” Rey smoothed out her skirt before asking tentatively, “Is that…not something you want?”

“I don’t want to leave,” Ben said shortly. “My life is here. I like it here. And the last time I went to London…” He trailed off, jaw tight. Rey nodded, knowing without his having to say that he referred to the way he’d lost himself, lost his sense of direction when he was in London; the horrible man who’d been his so-called mentor, who’d turned out to be passing along state secrets to the Nazis –

No, Ben didn’t much care for London.

“Besides,” Ben blinked, and with a closer look at his chocolate brown eyes, Rey realized – _oh._ “You’re my partner. It’s – irrational, I know,” he allowed, attempting a cool tone of voice and failing. “I could find another partner easily. It’s just, you’ve always understood me, never asked me to be any different. I flourished here, and even though I was supposed to be teaching you, you often challenged me, and helped me to do better, and strongly encouraged me to not be a complete and total ass, and –”

“Ben,” Rey interrupted. “It’s not like I’d go anywhere if you were to leave. I’ll still – we’ll still be friends.”

“Yeah?” Ben’s throat worked over something, and then he raised his eyes to hers. “That so?”

“Yes,” Rey said firmly. “Yes, Ben, we’ll always be friends. And if this move is something that will help your career, don’t let your fears of the past affect your decision.” She hopped up on the desk next to him, crossing her ankles primly before leaning into his massive side. “Will Amy come visit you?” She teased.

“Her family has property in London,” Ben said, nonchalant (despite the pink flush under his collar and at his cheekbones). “She would … relocate.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Rey demanded. “Besides, I doubt they’ll ask twice. Won’t it feel better to say you chose to go, rather than were ordered?”

“I do hate to be ordered,” Ben allowed thoughtfully.

“Too right,” Rey said. “Now, go get me some tea.”

“Arse.” Ben shoved her playfully, and they went back to work (after he got her some tea).

 

September 23, 1944

Rey stood on tiptoes to kiss Ben and then Armitage’s cheek – they’d had a dinner hosted at Armitage’s, with Rose, to celebrate Ben’s new position in London. Poe had joined them, and after he muttered under his breath about “ _why the hell are there so many different forks?”_ he’d been the absolute life of the party.

Armitage looked beyond proud of Ben, and had led a shocking number of toasts in his honor, and they’d all participated, meaning they were all a little more rosy-cheeked and laughter-prone than normal. It was though they had found themselves entirely removed from the reality of their time – no war could touch them, no distance could separate them – unaware and blissful, for these short hours, resisting the looming shadow of the war that staggered on in the continent.

As they turned to leave, Armitage caught Ben by the arm and said, quietly, “May I speak to you in private, Ben?”

“You may,” Ben allowed, smiling.

“Then who will walk me home?” Rose pretended to pout, before grinning and winking at Rey.

“We will,” Rey answered, looping her arm through her friend’s. Poe grinned and took Rose’s other arm, and they walked off into the growing dusk, a merry band.

Rey spared a glance over her shoulder, and saw the door close behind them.

The walk to Rose’s flat was peppered with laughter and ridiculous stories about her childhood, and Poe’s adolescence. They dropped her off at the conclusion of one particularly far-fetched tale about the time his friends had hotwired his English teacher’s car, only to crash it into a pole on the outskirts of his school’s parking lot, and Rose bid them goodnight.

Poe’s arm was warm against Rey’s as they walked towards her home. Poe kept clearing his throat, and then shaking his head, and Rey smiled at him encouragingly each time. She would have worried about it, had he not continually smiled back at her, the soft wrinkles at the corners of his eyes endearing and familiar to her, more dear to her than most earthly sights.

When they reached the door that led up to her rooms, Poe shuffled his feet and rubbed his neck. Not a single soul was in sight, and Rey smiled at him, about to offer him inside.

“So.” Poe coughed, and looked at his feet. “So, I feel pretty foolish.”

“Yeah?” Rey leaned against the doorway and cocked her head. “Why is that, Major?”

“Because,” Poe licked his bottom lip. He was nervous, and his eyes looked around. “Uh – I just – I spent a lot of time bein’ jealous of you and Ben.”

“Me and Ben?” Rey repeated, incredulous. She straightened up to look at him better in the light from the street. “Ben’s like a brother to me, darling, you don’t have to worry—”

“I know,” Poe nodded. “I know, sweetheart, but part of me always wondered – you two get along so well, you see…” She braced herself for him saying something selfish, like _and I was glad when he announced he was moving away,_ but instead, Poe said quietly, “I didn’t realize he and Armitage were. You know.”

“Poe.” Rey held her hand up. “Be very careful what you say next.” _Anyone could be listening,_ she wanted to point out. _Also, don’t you dare insult or threaten my best friend._

“I know, I know,” Poe raised his hands. “I…that doesn’t bother me, I swear. I uh, wasted a lot of time, is all. When I didn’t have to.”

Rey nodded, feeling a little on edge, and when Poe looked into her face, something softened in his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered, “Hey now.” He pulled her in, and she went, heart still a little jumpy, and his arms wrapped around her. “I really don’t – one of my best buddies is – no, you don’t have to worry about me saying nothing. I promise you, sweetheart. I’d never.”

“Okay,” Rey said, into Poe’s shoulder. “Okay.”

She breathed a sigh of relief: the only thing she had ever really kept secret from Poe – which was not a difficult choice on any front, given that it wasn’t her secret to tell – was now no longer something she needed to worry about. It was then that Rey realized how fully she trusted Poe Dameron, how easily she took him at his word that he’d never hurt Ben or expose the truth. She’d never trusted anyone like that.

***  
October 6, 1944

Rey splashed through the rapidly forming puddles in the downpour that had caught her on her way home from work. She had caught a ride from a friend, but had decided last second to attempt to walk from the edge of town inward to her flat – a decision she somewhat regretted as the cool autumn rain drenched her.

She laughed, jumping over a mini-river that had formed on the slope of the street, and sprinted for her door, all sense of decorum lost. She saw a shape taking refuge under the awning outside her door, and she snorted to imagine the sight she must make, the propriety she’d forsaken in her mad dash for warmth and dryness.

Rey’s feet stumbled for a moment when she realized it was Poe Dameron standing outside her door.

“Major!” Rey called, jogging up the steps. She came to a halt in front of him, the rain continuing its harsh patterns outside the awning. “You weren’t waiting long, I hope.” Her smile faltered at the look on Poe’s face. “Poe?”

“Can we talk?” He asked, voice hoarse. His eyes were – not red, exactly, but wild, the lines of his shoulders somewhat defeated. Rey nodded, voiceless, and unlocked the door, ushering him in and up the steps to her flat.

After she’d closed and locked the door, she wrung her hair out on the mat and offered Poe a smile. He tried to return it, and his attempt felt like a small wound in her heart for the apparent difficult of forming it. Needing to do something while Poe hung up his sopping wet jacket to dry, she bustled into the kitchen.

“Do you want anything?” Rey asked, shivering in her wet blouse. “Tea? Biscuits?”

“Do you need to change?” Poe countered. She relaxed somewhat at the fond look he wore, slightly exasperated by her reluctance to take care of herself. He stood a few feet away from her in her small kitchen, and BB came out of hiding and wound around his ankles for a moment.

“No.” Rey shook her head and clasped her hands, cold and clammy from the rain, together nervously. “No – I – are you sure? No tea?” She fumbled with the kettle anyway, trying to ignore the shaking in her hands.

“Rey,” Poe said softly, “Rey, look at me.”

She obliged, and the pain in his face made her wish she hadn’t. “What did you want to talk about, Major?” She asked, falsely cheery, going through the motions of preparing the kettle.

A warm hand grasped her wrist and tugged; Rey turned to face him, and Poe’s other hand came to rest on her hip. He smiled at her, and she returned it eagerly, waiting for him to kiss her, to tell her something sweet, but instead, the hand on her wrist migrated to her cheek for a fleeting second. And then he released her entirely.

“I got my orders,” Poe said, slipping a hand in his pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper, and Rey’s world narrowed down to the object. A droplet of water fell from the back of her hair, making her shiver as it added to the water already weighing her clothes down.

“I beg your pardon?” Rey asked faintly.

“I got new orders,” Poe repeated, placing the paper down on her counter. “I’m leaving.”

“No.” Rey shook her head. The kettle was still in her hand, and she set it down on the stovetop without breaking eye contact. “No, you – you must be mistaken. You train our pilots, Poe, your place is here.”

“It was,” Poe said. “It – things changed, sweetheart, they need me more...” he trailed off.

“You’re going to train pilots somewhere else?” Rey asked.

“No.” Poe coughed and finally looked away. “No, Sunshine, I’m going to the front.”

“That’s not true,” Rey said, grabbing the paper. “They made a mistake, a clerical error, it happens all the time—”

“Rey.”

“There’s no earthly reason why they’d send you to the front, not when you’re so good at training. Snap tells me all the time, he says—”

“ _Rey_.”

“That you’re the best at getting men into the air, that he’s never seen a better teacher, and—”

“Babydoll, please listen to me—”

“You can’t go to the front,” Rey said, her voice shrill and unrecognizable. “You – you can’t, you just can’t, there’s no – there’s no _reason_ for it, it’s _illogical._ ”

“None of this is logical,” Poe said, smiling at her. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Please, don’t – don’t cry, sweetheart—”

“I’m not crying,” Rey said, wiping the tears from her face. “I’m not – I just—"

“Shh,” Poe soothed, pulling her into his arms again. “Come here.” His attempts to calm her failed when she saw the agony in his own eyes. Rey clutched at his shirt, her mind still reeling, unable to process information, an entirely alien sensation. “Don’t—” New water joined the rain staining her blouse, as Poe wept into her neck. “Oh fuck, I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then don’t,” Rey said, holding him tighter.

“It doesn’t work like that.” Poe laughed shakily, his hands pressing between her shoulder blades, at her lower back.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...


	11. Each Little Dream Would Take Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe and Rey spend what little time they have left together, in the face of Poe's deployment to the front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Implied sex scene (consensual, between two adults). It fades to black before anything too risque happens - solidly PG-13 in rating. Heavy makeout session beforehand.
> 
> 2\. "Morning after" scene, where both parties are in a state of undress, followed by another implied sex scene, which contains:
> 
> 3\. Reference to condoms/contraceptives

Poe was departing on Sunday morning – he’d arrived on her doorstep on Friday evening, and he’d be gone in less than thirty-six hours.

“Do you need to go back to base?” Rey asked, tremulously.

Poe shook his head. “No – no, Snap has my bag in the car, I uh – asked him to bring me into town. Wanted to be near you as long as possible. Figured I’d kip out on someone’s couch—”

“Like hell you will,” Rey said firmly. “You’ll stay here.”

“Nah,” Poe rubbed his neck with his hand, his bloodshot eyes staring at the floor. “Nah, I didn’t show up here to impose or anything, sweetheart, don’t think—”

“Don’t you think I want to be near you, too?” Rey said, her voice breaking towards the end. Poe looked up and within a second, she was in his arms.

They stood in her kitchen, soaking wet and miserable, for staggering minutes, clutching each other with a desperation Rey had always considered herself beyond feeling. _I love you,_ she wanted to say, but her throat closed every time she tried to form the words. She hadn’t said those aloud since the deaths of her parents. She had never felt the urge – but now. Oh, but now.

When the storm broke, and Rey had changed into a dry dress, they wandered to The Falcon. Chewie poured Poe free drinks, and when Snap showed up, the mood lifted incrementally.

“Are you leaving too?” Rey asked him, staring down at her glass. Poe had gone up to the bar to speak with Chewie about some bet or another they’d entered into.

“Unfortunately,” Snap fiddled with the pint glass in front of him. “Not to the front though, that’s—” He shot a look at Poe’s back, the shorter man leaning over the bar to blabber about something to Chewie. “No. I’m going south, to another base. They’re rotating us. But Poe, he’s …”

“He’s what?” Rey pressed, when Snap had sealed his lips shut.

Her question was met with a sigh. “I’m not just saying this because he’s my buddy. But Poe? He flies like – like he was meant to be up there. Most guys, you can tell it’s them versus the plane, versus the elements, versus fate. But with Dameron, it’s like he’s part of the plane, or it’s part of him, more like. It’s like watching poetry. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I wish I could have seen him fly,” Rey said, the now familiar tears prickling at her eyes.

“You might still get the chance.” Snap smiled at her, and it was a testament to his kind and gentle spirit that it didn’t look forced in the slightest. “When he gets back, we’ll take you to a field. Should be easy, you have a higher clearance than either of us poor shmucks.” Rey laughed, wetly, and wiped her eyes. Snap grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “What I’m trying to say is – they called Poe down because he’s an amazing leader, and they need him in the air. But he’s a natural, Rey. You don’t need to worry about him.”

“Thank you,” Rey flipped her hand and squeezed Snap’s much larger fingers before releasing him and folding her hands primly in her lap. “But all the same – I think I’ll worry about him.”

“Until he gets back,” Snap prompted. Rey smiled noncommittally.

She’d lost too many people. And now, she was going to—

“Care for a dance?” Poe stood at the end of the table, his top buttons unbuttoned, a beer loose in his hand. It was such a striking reverse of the first time they’d danced in this bar, when she was still so unsure about him. Now, she’d never been more sure of anything or anyone.

“I’d love to dance with you,” Rey said, taking his hand. She smiled at Snap – whose smile now looked distinctly more melancholy – and walked to the free space in the middle of the pub. Jimmy Dorsey had come on the radio, and they swayed to the music, Rey’s head on Poe’s shoulder, his hands warm and reassuring on her hand and hip.

As Jimmy sang, Rey felt the poignancy of the lyrics, doubled when Poe’s mouth came to her ear and sang along, his tenor a beautiful blend with the music.

“Hold me my darling and say that you’ll always be mine,” Poe followed the line with a soft kiss to her hair.

“I will,” Rey said suddenly.

“What?” The song continued on the radio, and their feet kept moving, but for all she cared, the world had frozen.

“I’ll always be yours, Poe,” Rey said, the truth of it clear and terrifying and threatening to crack open her heart for all of eternity. “I’ll never – I can’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else.”

“You mean that?” He asked, his voice oddly shaken.

“More than anything.”

They danced a few moments more, but when the song stopped, Poe stopped moving as well and held her close.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Poe sounded unsure but hopeful, and Rey nodded before answering, her face still pressed against his neck.

“Take me home, Major.”

***

When they arrived back at her flat, Poe slipped his shoes off at the door and wandered in to the living room, where BB was perched on the back of her couch. The cat, now far more familiar with the pilot (and honestly much more enamored of Poe than it was of Rey), accepted the scratches offered by Poe.

“When does your train leave on Sunday?” Rey asked, hating herself for how badly she needed to know the hours she had left with him.

“An hour after sunrise,” Poe answered, and to her surprise, she heard tears in his voice. When she looked up, she saw that he looked close to crying. She made a noise of concern in her throat and walked towards him. BB jumped off the couch and hid under the nearby table, watching curiously as they embraced.

Poe took a deep, shuddering breath, one she felt coursing through her own body due to their proximity.

“Are you alright, darling?” Rey released him so she could study his face.

“No,” Poe murmured. “No, I’m not – I wanted more time with you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth a thin line, and then he stared at the ceiling. Rey watched the gorgeous column of his throat move while he continued to speak. “It’s stupid, yeah? I’m thirty years old, Sunshine, went my whole life going from girl to girl, not caring about settling down, just wanting to get in the air, break through to the sky, just wanting to be a hero. And now.” He dropped his gaze from her ceiling to look her in the eyes, and it took everything Rey had to stare back, his gaze was so intense. “And now, I’m doing exactly I wanted. I’ll be up in the sky, getting a chance to be a real hero – but I want something entirely different, now. I want to keep both feet on the ground because you’re here, and I want to be where you are. Always.”

“What are you trying to say, Poe?” She had a feeling she already knew, based on the fragile bubble that had grown inside her as he’d spoken.

He dragged his hands through his hair before speaking, his eyes intense and focused on her face, sincerity lancing each word. “I’m sayin’ I love you, Rey. I love you so much, and I don’t know what to do with that because in two days I’ll be up shooting damn Nazis out of the sky, and all I’ll be able to think about is whether you’re wearin’ the blue dress or the red one, if you got that code figured out yet, if you remembered to put cream in your coffee in the morning, if you’ve finally shot a guy at work for gettin’ too fresh. You’re the only thing I can think about, Sunshine, and that’s not exactly beneficial when you’re a fighter pilot in the middle of a goddamn war.”

“Sorry to inconvenience you,” Rey said calmly. Poe flinched.

“Shit, that didn’t come out right, did it?” He dragged his hands through his short hair, and Rey smiled at him. “I did this all wrong, God, I’m such an idiot-“

“I mean, you are,” Rey said. “But I love you anyway.”

“That’s very nice of you, sweetheart, but you deserve better,” Poe sighed, and then looked back at her so quickly, she giggled. “What- what’d you say?”

“I love you, Poe Dameron.” Rey smiled at him to punctuate the statement.

“Oh.” Poe blinked and then grinned widely. “Oh! Damn!” He rushed forward and picked her up around the waist, spinning her in a delirious circles until they were both laughing. “You love me!”

“I do,” Rey said after he’d allowed her feet to return to the floor. “And what are you going to do about that?” His answering kiss made her melt into his uniformed chest, her hands resting on either side of his decorated collar.

“I can’t believe I have to leave you soon,” he whispered when they broke apart. “But fuck, I’m – you’re getting to get me through this. All the memories I have of you, all the things we’ve done.”

“It’s the same for me,” she said fondly. Gazing at him in the half-lit living room, a pool of warmth spread over her, underlined with intention. She knew what she wanted – and she prayed he wanted the same. Throwing caution to the wind, Rey swallowed nervously and said, staring at a spot on the wall three inches to the left of Poe’s shoulder: “Would it help if you left with a good memory?”

“All my memories of you are good.” Poe’s finger ducked under her chin and guided her eyes back to his handsome face. “All of them.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said, biting her lower lip before grabbing his wrist and turning her face so she could kiss his palm. She slid her hand down his arm to his chest, where she gripped the fabric and stood straight, so they were closer than before. “I mean – what if we made a good memory? Right now?”

“Okay?” Poe smiled fondly at her, and looked around. “Do you mean like, take a picture? Because that would be nice, if I had a picture of us, not that I’m gonna forget any time soon what you look like, of course, pretty sure that’s branded onto my soul at this point—”

“Poe,” Rey laughed, half-exasperated, half deeply in love. “I want you to take me to bed.”

Poe was a person of constant movement – but he stilled so quickly, she wondered if he’d been frozen. “I – you—” He spluttered, his face pink. “I’m sorry, but you want… _that…_ ” he gestured at himself as if to say ‘ _with me_?”

“I want you,” Rey said, calmly. The analytical part of her was, for once, completely in step with her emotions. “I love you, and I want to share this with you before you go. Is that – do you want that?”

Her answer was a bruising kiss, Poe’s hands tight on her waist, one dragging up to tangle in her hair. His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips, slipping in and tangling with her own, and he walked forward until she was half-sitting on the back of her old couch.

“Shit,” he swore when they came up for air. “I should have – I should – yes. Yes, I want that, if you’re sure, want that very much, with you, of course, only with you, this isn’t just about—”

“I know,” Rey teased him, and leaned forward to kiss him. “Now, are you going to make love to me, Major Dameron?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathed. Then, he was bending down, grabbing her thighs, and hefting her into his arms. She shrieked with laughter, about to tell him to drop her because she was too heavy, but he adjusted his grip slightly, and she forgot what she was worried about. 

“Bedroom?” She gasped instead of protesting, and Poe nodded fervently, staring up at her with reverence usually reserved for a church. She pointed over his shoulder, and they stumbled backward towards her room, and she showered his face with kisses, trying to put how much she loved him, how much she cared for him, how much she would miss him, into each one.

There was a moment, before, when he held her in his arms and looked down at her in the way she’d never dreamed of – a moment where the world stopped on its axis, death and life suspended, death and the war ceased to exist, roaring to a halt because how could such cruelty exist when such love was possible –

And then he kissed her, and all she knew was _Poe._

***

Around noon the next day, Rey walked in from using the powder room, to discover Poe preening in her mirror, wearing her embroidered robe.

“It’s a good look for you,” she commented, leaning against the doorframe. Her legs felt slightly wobbly, her balance a little off-kilter from what they’d gotten up to in the morning (and the evening prior, and the entire night).

“Yeah?” He spun around, arms outstretched. His dog tags glittered on his chest, catching the sun now filtering in through her bedroom window. “Should I get one of my own?”

“Definitely.” Rey traipsed lightly across the room to his side. “Same colour and everything.”

“I could always just keep this one,” he joked, and Rey snorted, attempting to tug the front of it shut. His chest was too broad, however, and she was a few inches short of being able to.

“Only if I can keep this,” she said, tugging at the hem of the large shirt she’d borrowed to cross the apartment.

“Looks better on you anyway,” Poe said, kissing her neck softly before pulling her more into his arms, swaying them back and forth a song only he could hear. He began to sing softly in Spanish, and Rey closed her eyes, reveling in the crooning.

“I love you,” he whispered. “To the moon and back.”

“Well, I love you all to the next galaxy,” Rey teased, and Poe pulled her chin up slightly in order to kiss her deeply. “Any chance of you being…ready for battle?” She asked, blushing and feeling entirely unlike herself.

“More than.” He grinned devilishly and went to his bag. Rey hopped on the bed and arranged herself carefully, smirking at him while he dug around for his prize.

“Aha! Can’t say Uncle Sam never gave me nothing,” Poe grinned, producing the small packet from his duffel. Rey snorted and lay back on the pillows, crooking her finger at him in a way she prayed was alluring.

Judging by the way Poe pounced on her, she could say it was successful.

***

“You need to come back to me,” Rey said wetly, and Poe’s arm tightened around her middle. Sunday’s dawn was approaching, and she could hear birds outside her window the panic of his impending departure made her want to cry.

“Shit,” Poe swore, nuzzling into her shoulder, kissing it furiously. “I’ll always come back to you, sweetheart. I promise.”

“Don’t be a hero,” Rey begged him, turning her face into the bedspread to hide her shame. “Please – I know – I love you because you’re a good man, and I know you want to – to prove yourself, but Poe.” She turned in his arms and placed a hand on his chest. He gazed at her sadly while she finished her argument. “There’s still so much you need to do. You told me yourself, being a soldier wasn’t something you particularly dreamed of. You need to come back, so you can _live._ So you can be happy, and be a father—”

“That an offer?” Poe said, the joke not quite reaching his serious eyes.

She kissed him for an answer, and while the grey light filtered over the bed, she felt tears grow behind her eyes. Rey took comfort in the fact that they were also in Poe’s.

Soon, it was time to get ready to leave, and they reluctantly rose to make themselves decent.

“Sunshine?” Poe called out to her softly as she finished buttoning her dress.

“Yes, darling?” Rey turned to look at him, glad to have finished dressing first so she could look at him, unhindered and uninterrupted, so she could commit Poe Dameron further to memory.

“You should keep somethin’ safe for me.” Poe said, not fully dressed yet. His shirt was unbuttoned, untucked, and his hand went to his tags. Rey’s heart fluttered at the thought – soldiers only gave their serious sweetheart their tags, but of course they were serious, weren’t they? Even though their collected time together couldn’t be more than four months, they _loved_ each other – “If you wanted.”

“I do.” Poe Dameron was entirely too clever not to hear the similarity between those two words and a vow most frequently said in a church. His eyes closed while he clutched his hand around his tags, around the collection of metal.

“Do you have a spare chain?” He asked hoarsely. “Sorry, I would have bought it myself, but the orders came in so fast –“

“No! No, don’t apologize.” Rey walked through the door, over to her desk in the corner of the living room and rifled through the drawer quickly, coming up with a spare, plain necklace. Poe came to stand behind her. “Here, the locket on this broke, so I’ve just been keeping it.”

Poe smiled at her, tugged his necklace off, and slipped not just his tag, but the silver ring off as well. He cleared his throat, the shining metal glittering in his palm. His head remained ducked, his face hidden while he said, “This was my mother’s. And I need you to keep it safe for me, okay?” Rey nodded, quickly, as Poe took the necklace out of her hand and threaded his tag and his mother’s ring onto it. He looked up, and some unknown, powerful emotion burned in his eyes before he moved behind her to fasten the necklace around her throat. He stroked his large hand over the clasp when he was done, leaving a ghost of a kiss above the chain.

The tears in his eyes were undeniable when he walked back front of her to examine the necklace. “Perfect,” he declared, smiling at her sadly. “It looks perfect.”

“Feels perfect,” Rey whispered.

***

They passed the ride to the station in silence. Armitage Hux, in town to collect materials from his country home had woken up early and driven them himself. He’d somehow known about Poe’s departure – Rey wasn’t sure how, but she was grateful to see him, nonetheless.

When they pulled up in front of the station, halfway between Cheddington and Bletchley, Armitage parked the car and got out to shake Poe’s hand.

“I wish you the very best of luck, Major,” Armitage said, a hand firm on Poe’s opposite arm.

“Thanks, Hux.” Poe smiled tightly at him and hitched his duffel bag up on his shoulder. Armitage released him, giving him a searching look, and then walked back to the driver’s seat, briefly squeezing Rey’s shoulder on his way past.

“His father died in the Great War,” Rey commented softly, as they walked into the station. “He’s only spoken about it once, but—” Her voice broke, unwilling to keep talking about the looming possibilities ahead of them. They reached the platform, and the uniforms milling about only served to make her throat tighter.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Poe turned to face her and grabbed both her hands. He lifted them, pressed a kiss to each one, and smiled at her weakly. “I mean it, Sunshine. I’ll be back before you know it.”

A man on the speakers called out that it was time to board, and Rey searched Poe’s face desperately – hadn’t they allotted more time? How could it already be 5:30? And in response, his hands framed her face, tilting her head slightly so his mouth slotted perfectly over her own.

The kiss went on for almost an eternity, she thought, his hands desperate near the end, running over her thin shirt, along her back, through her hair. He kissed her as if he could freeze time, and truly she wished he could. She never wanted to leave this moment, this private stolen fragment of time with her pilot.

“I love you,” she whispered when they parted. “I’ll love you forever.”

“I’m coming back to you,” Poe’s voice was adamant, even as an officer called out to the train for him to get on, quickly. “Trust me, please, sweetheart, I’ll come back to you.”

“I trust you.” She didn’t trust the world, the universe, or Fate – but she trusted Poe.

“I love you.” He kissed her again, lingering despite its brevity, and whispered, “I promise.”

He turned from her, his fingers catching on hers as they pulled away, and he looked over his shoulder at her. They maintained the contact as long as they could, and with a regret in his eyes, he released her.

“Come back,” she whispered, watching him as he reached the train. The words formed, but no sound fell from her lips.

“Keep my heart safe, would you?” Poe said, one foot on the train, the other still on the platform. “I’m leaving it with you.”

“You do the same,” Rey laughed, exhausted from what they had shared and the thought of him leaving. “Don’t do anything rash, Major. You better come back because I’ll be quite put out if you made me love you just to do something silly.” It was more jovial than the promises they’d just exchanged on the platform, but now people could hear them, could see them clearly, and she wanted him to feel brave. She wanted to be brave.

“I’d hate to disappoint, ma’am.” He tipped his hat at her, and smiled one last time, pain clear in his eyes. A man from the train’s compartment called out to him, asking where he was, and Poe shouted something back, indiscernible over the building noise of the train. Both his feet were onboard now, and Rey found herself stumbling after the train when it lurched forward, trying not to cry as she waved at him. “I love you, Sunshine,” he called back to her. “Love you to the moon and back.”

She stood still then, unable to keep up with the train’s increasing pace, and he stood there, not waving, just staring at her as if trying to commit her to memory, until the train pulled away and out of sight for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops.
> 
> Angst ahead.
> 
> Thanks to melanoradrood, gloriouswhisperstyphoon, supremequeenofthenerds, and beccaboom, who all previewed my first draft and who all in some way thought it was a little too "M" for this "T" fic.
> 
> (The fade to black scene exists in an explicit draft on my computer, and I will be happy to publish for interested parties! Just lmk, as always, if you want it).


	12. I'll Always Be Near You Wherever You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey receives updates on her major from the front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sad chapter. You are warned.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter title comes from "I'll Walk Alone" ["I"ll Walk Alone"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EKxH0X7DaVY)

**October 20, 1944**

_Dear Rey,_

_I’ve read your letter probably a dozen times. The fellas in my unit make fun of me for it, but I’m not ashamed. It stays right in my pocket, over my heart, where it belongs._

_We’re holed up here in_ [redacted] _for now, and it’s not too bad. If you like mold and the smell of fifty guys crammed into one space for a while._

_I don’t want to waste my time complaining, so let me ask you some questions instead. How’s our little Bletchley Baby doing? Is he still a holy terror? I swear that thing only bites me, I’ve never seen him sink a tooth or claw into you or Rosie (I’m happy to take the brunt of it, though). Is the weather better up there than it is here? It’s been raining for a week straight. Forgot what the color green looks like._

_I miss you, babydoll. You’re my sunshine, and I can’t wait til I’m with you again. They’re hoping we’ll make it back by Christmas_. _I want you to meet my dad when I get back. He’ll love you. I’ve enclosed his address – he asked if you could send him a letter because he wants to get to know you, too._

_I want you to do something for me. I want you to go to the little parlor on the edge of town, you know the one, where Rose took us that one time – and I want you to order the biggest chocolate shake they have. And then I want you to drink it, and order another one, and drink that one for me. I’d do ridiculous things for some decent food right now, but the thought of you enjoying something sweet will be enough._

_With all my love,_

_Poe_

**October 29, 1944**

_My darling,_

_I did what you asked. I felt ill for about a day and a half afterwards, but I completed the mission. I do hope you’re proud of me._

_Bletchley Baby sends his love. He’s getting larger every day still, and I wonder if he’ll ever pick a size and settle down. He remains sweet as ever, and I must insist it was something you did that caused him to attack you on so many occasions. He is not a violent creature, after all; clearly, it was your influence that initiated his fits of madness._

_Rose sends her love, and she wants to know if you have, and I quote “met any cute fellas for her to dance with.” I told her the cutest fella on the front was already taken, and she was unhappy with that news. I miss you so much, my love, and I’m counting the days that go by until I can see you again._

_I will be posting a letter to your father at the same time I post this one to you. I have never sent a letter to America: it was rather thrilling! If it is acceptable to you, I would like to invite you and your father to stay at my family’s home in the north of England after the war ends. It is a large and empty home that has felt nothing but lonely for the last eight years. It would be wonderful to breathe some life back into it._

_I hope you are staying dry in the poor weather. There are some mumbles at my place of work regarding placements. There is some talk of me moving to the same office as our dear friend. London doesn’t sound too terrible, but all the same, if this does come to pass, I shall miss this lovely village, and the memories I have made here._

_Write back to me as soon as you can, my darling._

_I love you so incomprehensibly much._

_Rey Andor_

***

**November 15, 1944**

_Rey-_

_I know I’m double-posting. I haven’t even gotten a response from my last letter yet, which makes sense because I posted it only three days ago. But I needed to write to you. I need to pretend for just a ~~fucking~~ second that I’m talking to you. I think that it’s the only thing that could possibly keep me sane._

_I can’t say much about it but a few of my buddies didn’t make it back last night. I’ve lost people before ~~but this just felt so much more fucking personal~~ , but this time, they were guys that I trained myself. So. I don’t know why I’m writing. I shouldn’t even post this. I miss you. I miss you so much. I miss your smile, I miss your laugh, I miss the way your neck smells, I miss the way your lips feel on mine, I miss the sight of you in the color green, the color red, hell, any of the colors. I miss the way you say my name, babydoll, and I go to sleep each night trying to play the memory of you back like a record, and it terrifies me when it don’t sound right or it don’t quite look like you._

_When it’s bad out here sometimes I think I dreamed you up. But then I correct myself because my imagination was never that good. My brain can’t take credit for making you up._

_I love you. So fucking much, you have no idea. ~~When I get back, I’m going to marry you, if you’ll have me~~. _

_I want a future with you. I just wish the present wasn’t such fucking hell to get through._

_-Poe_

_p.s. I’m sorry for burdening you with this. Ignore this letter. I’m so sorry. I love you._

**November 20, 1944**

_Poe,_

_It was less than a day after I posted my last response when I received your letter dated the 15 of November._

_Don’t apologize, my darling. Please don’t. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I cannot tell you the number of times I have nearly broken down at work when the pain of not having you near becomes too much. I feel weak, and foolish, but now that I am working with Ben again (London is dreary, but I think that just might be your absence making me feel this way), he assures me that it is entirely normal to feel like this. So this is me, continuing his good advice, and assuring you that it is normal to feel such despair in times like this._

_You are so brave, Poe Dameron. You are a hero, and a good man, and I love you very much. I am so sorry you lost your friends. If you were here, I would try to make you feel better, but instead I will have to settle for pouring my love into each word I write. I dream of you all the time. When I sleep, when I’m walking to work, sometimes even during work (you’re a good deal handsomer than numbers, so who can blame a girl?)._

_I want a future with you, too. Come home so we can start building it together._

_With all my love, and all my heart,_

_Rey Andor_

_p.s. I have attached an item that might be of interest to you, regarding your comment on forgetting what I looked like. We can’t have that, now can we?_

**November 27, 1944**

_Oh Damn._

_Oh damn, Rey, God, you cannot have any idea what that picture did to me. How did you even – I don’t want to know, actually. The suspense is part of the fun. _

_Holy God, thank you. The photo has taken a place of great honor amongst my personal effects. It might sound a little funny to say, but I really do plan to just stare at your face (not that the rest of it…isn’t…really nice. Because it is. Real nice. Very nice. So Nice.) each night when I go to bed. _

_I just know I’m going to dream of you tonight. ~~Not all my dreams are great anymore~~ I treasure every dream I have of you._

_Thank you again, babydoll. I love you. Need to go – we have shorter time today, they’re moving us somewhere._

***

**December 19, 1944**

_Poe –_

_You promised to come back._

_I don’t understand._

**

Ben picked up the letter from where it had fluttered to the floor, dropped by a cold and limp hand relaxed only by sleep.

Rey dozed fitfully on the chaise in front of him; she was the palest thing in the warm drawing room of Hux’s townhome. He examined the two lines, his heart seizing painfully, and a hand grasped his shoulder and squeezed tight. Ben covered it with his own and looked up at his beloved.

“How is she?” Armitage asked, bright blue eyes dampened by sympathy.

“Not well,” Ben said. “I wish I knew how to help her, Armie.”

Armitage pressed a kiss onto the top of his head and moved to drape a blanket over Rey’s body, which still trembled in sleep. She hadn’t spoken since the messages came in.

The hateful things were sitting even now on the table behind her, and if Ben craned his neck but just a little, he could read the dreaded words.

_Maj. Poe Dameron missing in action at Bulge_

And then, the one from yesterday –

_Maj. Poe Dameron presumed dead in massacre at Malmedy_

_Further invest. req._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the warnings for this fic in the tags ^^ have not changed. 
> 
> That being said, go ahead and leave me notes about how much you hate me.


	13. Set My Heart at Ease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the news from the front, Rey Andor spends time in recovery as the year comes to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even going to pretend this is historically accurate.
> 
>  
> 
> It's a fan~fic~, heavy on the ~fic~

Oddly, it was Armitage who got her to eat after the news came in.

It had been three days, and she’d refused anything more than a weak cup of tea –

She hadn’t fallen apart this much after her parents died, so she wasn’t entirely sure what was different now. There hadn’t been tears shed since the message, but no food, little water, and hardly any movement seemed to be her method of handling her grief. Rey wanted to go back to work, or to the store, or even just to the market, but every time she thought about putting a foot on the ground, her body felt very heavy. It was odd, but in a way she felt detached from. She passed the time idly running figures and codes in her head, and spared little thought to wars or battles or the world outside her darkened room on the third floor of someone else’s home.

– and then there was a knock at the door, but Rey didn’t even turn her head from where she stared at her fireplace.

The door swung open with no other warning, and in walked Armitage, with a tray full of food in one hand, and BB in the other.

“Your cat,” he declared primly, “has eaten a pair of loafers that my grandfather left me.”

“I’m sorry,” Rey whispered, blinking slowly.

“Don’t be.” Armitage dumped the orange and white cat unceremoniously into Rey’s lap. “I hated the damned things.” The tray followed a little more gently onto the bed next to her.

She understood she was to smile, but found she didn’t quite have the energy.

“He’s a terrible influence on Millicent,” Armitage continued, sitting down in the armchair next to her bed and resting his elbows on his knees. “Terribly middle class, your cat.”

“Rude,” Rey managed to answer. BB curled up into a small ball on bed at this point, and his eyes closed gently as he nuzzled into the side of her leg. Armitage smirked at them both and began to prepare two cups of tea. “I’m not hungry.”

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry.” Armitage’s voice was full of steel, and it tugged at something distant in her stomach.

“I’m not going to eat.” She knew she probably sounded petulant, but she didn’t care. Ben and Armitage could throw her into the street, and she still didn’t think her mind would let her respond.

“Of course you are.” Armitage passed her the pretty, delicate china, and belligerently left his hand there until Rey accepted the cup. “There. Now, try to eat some chicken.” He tapped the plate towards her, and Rey picked idly at the meat. “Have I ever told you about my mother?”

When Rey shook her head in response, Armitage grabbed a scone from the tray and sat back in the armchair. “She was a saint. I mean that in every sense of the word. She raised me and my dimwit brother, put up with us both, and ran multiple charity organizations, God rest her soul. My mother was a lovely woman.”

“Sounds like it,” Rey agreed, wanting to go back to sleep already.

“When my father died,” Armitage cleared his throat around the word, but then soldiered on remarkably well, and Rey once more felt the distant stirring of her emotions. “I was only seven years old. But I remember. It was as though the light had gone out of my mother’s soul.” Rey blinked absently at the cup in her hands, and Armitage’s long, slender fingers picked apart the scone, only a few pieces of it making it to his thin mouth. “It was terribly selfish, but I remember thinking that I had lost both a father and a mother. My brother was older, and as I stated before, an absolute dimwit, and was of no use, and I felt utterly alone in the world. And then I thought, in that clear-headed way that seven year olds can sometimes think, that my mother must also be feeling lonely. So I sat by her bed, every day for a month. She screamed at me to get out more than once – I look just like my father did, you see, and I believe it hurt her too much to see me. And I did leave, but I’d come back the next day, and I’d read her a book, or I’d just sit and wait in the little chair by her bed. But I didn’t ask her to get out of bed, and my brother and I didn’t push her to eat, and we didn’t ask her for anything, and the staff certainly didn’t.” Armitage set his saucer down on the small table next to Rey’s bed and tapped his fingers against the side of his chair.

“If this were a pretty story, I’d tell you that one day in the springtime, she woke up and felt better, and saw me sitting next to her. And she realized, with the birds singing outside her window, that her sweet boy, whom she loved more than anything, had been there for her, patiently waiting for her to step into her life once more; and she pulled me to her and covered my face with kisses and told me she loved me once more, and never asked me to leave her side again.”

“But it’s not a pretty story?” Rey said, raising her eyes to his face. Armitage was staring out the window, his slender hand covering his mouth, his bright blue eyes trained on the window across the room, the one with the curtains drawn.

“It’s not,” he confirmed. Armitage paused for a long moment, and then, without moving another muscle, shifted his eyes so that he could stare at her. “She died. My mother died, not of a broken heart, but of a broken body because she refused to eat or sleep or move, and no one pushed her to do so. And she left behind people who loved her, and who gave a damn if she lived or died.” He picked up the plate of chicken and unceremoniously shoved it into her hands, which came up quickly to grab it. “ _Eat_.”

He stood then, walked to the window, and yanked the drapes open. “You get two more weeks,” he said calmly. “And then I’m taking you outside myself, even if I have to push you out that window.” He stopped at the bedside and kissed her head before leaving.

Rey at the entire plate before she stopped, feeling sick, but when Armitage came back an hour later, he smiled at the empty plate. “Good girl,” he said, sweeping up the tray from the floor next to the bed.

And then he left her to her thoughts, which, not an hour before, had felt dampened and distant – and now were tinged with a melancholy sort of dread that comes from waking up.

***

Christmas passed in a blur – Armitage and Ben both attempted to bring cheer to her lonely room in their townhome, but she could only stand so many decorations before she started shaking uncontrollably.

It had been a week since the message came in at this point – “It’s just too soon,” Rey whispered to Ben as he sat at the foot of her bed. “I’ll – I’ll try tomorrow.” Ben nodded, his green jumper snugly fit around his broad chest, and a paper crown resting crooked on his curls.

“Leia sends her love,” he murmured, passing a hand over her rumpled, dirty hair. “She’d come, but …”

“The war doesn’t stop for anyone,” Rey said dully. “I understand, Ben. Really.”

She did eat a full meal on the 26th as Armitage sat in his usual chair, and Ben perched at the foot of her bed, and Armitage gave her a private, exhilarated smile when she pushed the tray away, groaning in earnest at her swollen belly. BB and Millicent played in the corner, and while it didn’t snow, the chill in the room felt decidedly more external than internal for once, and when Ben dozed off, three cordials in, curled up much like a cat, Rey felt warm for the first time in days.

“I think tomorrow might be a good day for a walk,” Rey whispered.

“I think so too,” Armitage agreed, smiling at her even as he carded his fingers through Ben’s dark curls. His gaze as he stared at her friend was painfully affectionate, the love in his eyes not hidden in the slightest. Rey would find it almost too painful, if not for the sadness Armitage had shared with her, the exhausting, debilitating sadness of losing one’s parents that she understood all too well.

“What time is’t?” Ben mumbled, blinking awake while Rey was mid-reflection on her own, seemingly permanent wound of grief.

“Time for bed, love,” Armitage answered. The two linked arms as they left, Ben waving sleepily at Rey as they exited. Rey’s feet found the warm space under the covers that Ben had left while he dozed, and she soon fell into a quiet, warm dream.

In the dream, Poe held her, his skin soft and unbroken, the muscles alive and strong under her hands as she ran them up and down his arms – she couldn’t see his face, but she knew he held her, the smell of him almost unbearably close to real, his breath hot and even on her neck as he sang to her softly in the language of his parents and her father, and she knew he held her, her heart pounding with the resonating understanding that Poe was here, Poe was home, Poe –

She woke, her stomach cold where it had just been warm, and she sat up and covered her mouth with her hand, as though she could possibly push this overwhelming tidal wave of grief back down into her gut.

It was then, at roughly three o’clock on the morning of December 27th that she shed her first, but not last, set of tears for Major Poe Dameron.

***

“You have a guest,” Ben announced from the doorway, two days until the end of the year.

“Oh?” Rey looked over from her seat in the window, and then she shrieked in surprise. “Oh!”

Rose Tico was there, her luggage tossed aside as she strode into the room, arms already extended. Rey rose on shaky legs and hurried to her friend, and Rose’s arms wrapped around her, soothing noises already in her throat as sobs spilled out of Rey.

“Hey,” she said, already guiding them to the bed so they could sit. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” She repeated it over and over, and Rey buried her face in Rose’s neck and cried the hardest she had so far.

The next day, she and Rose walked towards Rey’s new office, but stopped short of going in. “It’s New Year’s Eve,” Rose pointed out. “You can go back in the new year – a fresh start.”

Rey nodded, an arm around her middle. “I just feel so useless,” she admitted. “Like – no matter what I do, it wouldn’t matter.”

“I understand,” Rose said simply as they turned around and headed back to the house. “But Rey, you’re the smartest person I know, except for maybe Solo. The war’s almost over – and I know it doesn’t feel that way, but everything we do matters. We can’t stop now, not when we’re so close. And – and P-Poe wouldn’t want you to quit.” She slipped on his name for a moment, and Rey’s heart felt the fresh wave of grief. But at the same time, she felt relieved, relieved that someone had said his name. No one, not even herself, had said it aloud in a fortnight. “He’d want you to keep going, and he’d want you to take down as many of those bastards as you could in the process.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Rey said faintly, smiling after a moment. “Poe Dameron didn’t do anything half-assed. Nor should I.”

“Nor should you,” Rose seconded, squeezing her around the middle tightly, and leaving her hand on Rey’s waist.

When the clock struck midnight that night, Rey closed her eyes and listened to each toll of the bell as it rolled through the resilient city. In her mind, she held an image of Poe, sun-kissed and laughing as he sat on the beach, the lines of his throat mesmerizing, the man hearty and hale and as she remembered – she held the image in her mind for each strike, and didn’t fight the grief or the love she felt for him as the last chime faded from her ears, and 1945 began.

***

Rey was at work a week after the New Year when Rose stumbled through the office, wild-eyed and gasping.

“What?” Rey asked, hand on her hip. “What is it?”

“Come,” Rose tugged on her hand. “Come now.”

“Come where?” Rey demanded, but Rose kept pulling her along.

“You, you’re coming too!” Rose snapped, jabbing her finger at Ben, who looked up from his paperwork with a mildly disgruntled expression. He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to argue, but Rose glowered at him, and Ben followed after them, hands in his trouser pockets, and a loud sigh emerging from his mouth.

“We can’t just leave, Rose,” Rey pointed out. “We have work to do - What is all this about?”

They reached the street, having trundled down the stairs and past some alarmed secretaries, and Rose panted slightly, the wild look not gone from her eyes in the slightest. “I – I asked a friend of mine, a secretary at the hospital, to keep track of the...soldiers returning from the front,” Rose explained.

Rey balked immediately, backing up into the solid wall of Ben Solo. “No.” She said it firmly. “No. No, Rose, I am _not_ going to a morgue, I cannot – I can’t—”

She shook her head weakly, and Ben’s hands grasped her upper arms soothingly.

“Not the morgue,” Rose had tears in her eyes, and she grabbed Rey’s hand again weakly. “No. _No,_ Rey – the hospital.”

“The…” Rey trailed off, feeling faint. “What?”

“Come on,” Rose tugged her hand.

“No.” Ben spoke this time, firmly. “Not until you explain. We are not dragging her down there just so she can be more upset by whatever your nurse friend _thinks_ she saw –”

Rose held up a small piece of silver, and Rey stared at it in shock. With trembling fingers, she drew the matching piece of silver out from her sweater and held it aloft. Both had the same name.

Poe B. Dameron.

“What’s happening?” Rey asked, voice shaking. “Rose, tell us. Now.”

“Walk and talk,” Rose urged, and she handed the piece of metal to Rey, who stumbled after her of her own volition this time. Ben kept up, one arm secure around Rey’s shoulders. “She – she pulled it off a guy who came in. It’s – it’s not going to be pretty, Rey, it’s not, she said he’d been shot in the back, but he made it up here with the help of another soldier who’d been only slightly wounded, and they joined up with an American unit to get back here to London.”

“Shot in the back?” Rey croaked, her hand covering her mouth. “Can he – can he walk?”

“It’s not dead,” Ben said flatly, and Rey felt a surge of annoyance for Ben’s lack of tact, the first time she’d felt irritated over it in years.

“They’re operating now,” Rose said. The hospital was now in sight, and Rey’s throat closed up as her legs threatened to stop working. Both her friends pulled her along, and as the steady stream of nurses and medical officers ran past, in and out, they made it through the entrance.

“Susan!” Rose called, sweeping through what was clearly an attempt at a waiting room. Rey came to a halt and swayed slightly, and Ben squeezed her arm reassuringly before following Rose. Rey focused on her breathing, trying to remember to stay calm, to remember that Poe Dameron could very well be alive right now, his life in the balance, and –

Her breath caught in her throat while Rose talked to a harried looking woman across the room.

“Poe?” Rey asked dazedly. “Major Dameron?”

He hadn’t looked up yet, and for a moment, she thought she had entirely imagined him, spotted his ghost from a hundred feet away; his head was bowed, fingers tented while his leg bounced, that old nervous habit she’d gotten used to in their brief time together. She realized he hadn’t looked up because he hadn’t heard her – she’d barely said it out loud.

Rey pushed through the crowd, running now. “Poe!” She screamed, ignoring the stares of the gathered crowd. “Oh God, Poe!”

He looked up at last, and she saw what they had done to him, saw the circles carved under his eyes, the lines that hadn’t been there before on his face, the way he held his left arm to his body as if he could protect it from an unseen threat –

Poe hadn’t been smiling while he stared at the ground, and he didn’t smile when he looked at her, but he stood, shakily, eyes widening. Rey wanted to scold him to sit back down – he had lost ten kilos, maybe more, since she last saw him – but he was here, and he was standing, and she froze, a meter away from him.

“Poe,” Rey whispered again now that they were close. The waiting room had died down after her outburst, but the noise picked back up again, and she saw Rose pointedly chatting loudly with Ben, clearly trying pulling attention away from her and Poe’s reunion. “Darling.” The tears threatened to choke her fully, and her hands drifted up to his chest, not touching him, not daring to touch lest he dissolve in front of her, exposing this for a terribly beautiful dream – she snatched her hands back and clutched them to her chest. She had yet to blink.

“Rey?” His voice was hoarse, but still had that magical quality that caused her to shiver. His eyes locked onto her face, his hands reached out as if involuntarily, and he took a trembling step forward to close the distance between them, his throat working over some unknown grief. “Babydoll.” He walked forward with more confidence this time, and Rey wept as he pulled her into his arms. “No, babydoll, don’t cry, don’t cry –“

“Poe,” Rey sobbed, absurdly, he was here, wasn’t he? He was safe? “Are you okay? Did they – are you okay?” She clung to his still broad shoulders, that were somehow frail, some underlying exhaustion that bled through to the way he was holding himself – and felt that he was trembling as much as she was.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “Oh fuck – how are you here? How did you know where to find me?”

“Rose,” Rey laughed anxiously, and patted at his cheeks, covered in several weeks’ growth. It made him look older and more wild, and she loved it, loved him, she could die from this much happiness. “Rose had asked someone to keep a look out – but – but _Poe,_ they said you’d been shot in the back, that another soldier had brought you here—”

“No,” Poe shook his head quickly. “No – that was – that was my buddy, he got shot, he and I got out, but his wound got infected, thought he wasn't going to make it for a while. He was wearing my jacket for warmth, and I slipped my tag in there, they musta found it—”

“Your buddy?” Rey laughed again, and stroked her thumbs over his knuckles. “Only you could make friends like that.”

“Finn’s good people,” Poe said, a clear attempt at levity. “You’ll love him.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” Rey sniffed, and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Oh goodness, maybe I’ll stop crying long enough to say hello properly.”

He laughed as well before tears of his own leaked from his eyes. “Fuck.” Poe buried his face in her neck. “Sorry, Sunshine, I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”

“Yeah?” Rey sniffled, laughing shakily as she pulled away from him to cup his cheeks once more with her shaking hands. “But you made me a promise, Dameron. You promised to come back, and you did.”

“I did,” Poe finally smiled, and it carved something, deep and painful, into Rey’s heart to see how much that smile cost him. “I came back to you, sweetheart. Always will.” He leaned forward, and Rey’s breath caught at the idea of his lips on hers once more, but then he shook his head. “Not – not right now. I haven’t showered in a month, Sunshine, and I’m a wreck, and all these people are around, and it should be perfect –“

“I don’t give a fuck about perfect.” Poe huffed a quiet laugh, just a single beat of sound, at the sound of her cursing. Rey bridged the distance for him, but paused right before to ask, “Do you want me, still?”

“I always want you,” Poe answered, and she shivered from his breath blowing over her mouth. “You’re the only thing I’ll ever want, Rey Andor.”

“Well then, I guess that makes this perfect.” Rey kissed him soundly, stroking her thumbs over the rough beard on her handsome pilot’s cheeks and jaw. It took him a moment, his hands hesitant on her waist, but then he pulled her against him and kissed her with a semblance of his former passion. When they separated, Rey’s cheeks were flushed, and she kissed his nose, his cheek, the spot under his ear that used to make him sing, and she stayed buried in his neck while she whispered, “I missed you, Major.”

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he answered, arms tighter around her than ever. “My girl.”

“Yours,” Rey agreed happily, her chin resting on his shoulder while she smiled. “All yours, Dameron. And I hope you know that you’re mine.”

“I think that’s the only thing in the world that I’m sure of anymore,” was his reply, and Rey felt her eyes drift shut, at peace finally, after the long, hard months with her pilot gone.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!


	14. 'Till the Blue Skies Drive the Dark Clouds Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe tries to adjust to life in London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Reference to massacre/war-related violence  
> PTSD - character experiences vivid flashback, as well as: anxiety; nightmares; depression; and, dissociation
> 
>  
> 
> [Angsty chapter]
> 
> Chapter title from Vera Lynn's "We'll Meet Again" (1939)

The sunlight stole across the blankets, and brought another day with Major Poe Dameron returned from the front. Rey examined him quietly in these early moments, when the sun was just kissing her country good morning, and she took great pleasure in the study of his features stilled by sleep.

There were features that she could not possibly deny: the shadows still carved under his eyes, even when he slept; the stubble that he never seemed to completely shave; lines that had appeared over the course of the months that had kept them apart. But, for all the changes brought by the war’s cruelty, Rey could not deny that her pilot was a handsome man indeed.

Referring to him as her ‘pilot’ had recently become an impossibility when he was awake. Sometime after she had discovered him in the makeshift hospital, Rey had noticed the swelling of his left hand, and she had demanded he get it examined by a medic. Poe had tried to refuse, but she had put her foot down – and luckily she had, for it was broken, almost beyond repair. It was now wrapped in a cast, and he was under strict orders to avoid all strenuous activity (an order they had creatively found ways around during their frantic reunion as soon as they had found some privacy in her room at Armie’s townhome, and as they all lived there together, the aristocrat had taken to joking that they were living in a ‘den of sin’), but it wasn’t the pain that kept him on edge. No, it was the knowledge that he may never regain full use of that hand, something that would keep him out of the cockpit, and out of the military.

Rey secretly was relieved a not-so-critical injury had removed her sweetheart from the path of violence (but her stomach curdled from how horrifying the manner of his breaking it had been – lying amongst felled soldiers, pretending to be dead, unable to scream in pain when a thick boot had descended on his hand, crushing it—), and she fought to hide it from Poe, who struggled with an exhausted sort of silence since his return. It had been two full weeks since his miraculous reappearance, and they had fallen into a pattern of sorts; this part of the day was one of her favorites, where she could examine him in peaceful slumber, watch him breathing, and fully enjoy the fact that he was alive and mostly well within arm’s reach.

As though hearing her thoughts centered solely on him, Poe’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at her, a tired smile, but a precious one nonetheless. “Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, slinging an arm around her waist. Rey scooted closer to him across the bed, seeking his warmth; she pressed her cold toes against his shins, and gleefully smiled at his groan of protest. “Gotta invest in some woolen socks for you, babydoll.”

“Mmm,” Rey purred, nuzzling under his jaw, and then tucking her head under his chin, her nose pressed to his collarbone. His arm tightened around her, holding her closer. “Why should I, when I have you?” A series of sleepy kisses pressed into her hair, and she thrilled in it. Her fingers reached out to trace his necklace, the silver ring once more threaded along it (and she prayed she hadn’t imagined his disappointment when she asked shyly if he wanted it back, hadn’t imagined his hesitation in accepting it from her, hadn’t imagined the way his eyes had darted to her left hand).

“Love you,” she murmured, basking in this private happiness. Poe mumbled the sentiment back, and they spent a long moment merely holding each other as the light from the window lengthened over their entwined bodies.

***

Things weren’t particularly easy now, Rey understood. The war continued to lumber on, the Nazis having taken undeniable, shaking losses, but still managing to stay in the fight. She couldn’t hate leaving for work, not when there was so much to be done, so much more intelligence to gather to ensure the destruction of the hateful war machine of the Third Reich – but Rey certainly didn’t care for the way Poe’s eyes tightened every morning when she and Ben left for work, leaving him to “putter” and “feel useless,” sentiments he’d only muttered about a few times, his cheeks burning with mortification the whole time.

Armitage tried his best to distract him, and Poe truly did need the rest – and he often visited his friend, Finn, as he recuperated. Rey had met him after he woke up, and despite being unable to move due to the large cast surrounding most of his upper body, Finn had proven to be a cheerful, pleasant sort of fellow whom she greatly looked forward to seeing more of (and Rose did too, if Rey wasn’t mistaken – her friend had developed quite a crush on the handsome American, who had moved to the convalescent hospital to recover).

When the paperwork came in offering Poe a medical discharge, he balked, but Rey begged him to take it.

It was their first fight, and she wept for an hour afterwards, her handkerchief balled into her fist as she sat, miserable, hiding, in the bathroom. A soft knock had interrupted her anxiety, and she croaked, “Come in,” Poe had entered, red-eyed himself. She attempted to rise and compose herself, but Poe fell to his knees and buried his head in her lap, and Rey stroked his hair and whispered reassurances to him, even as he whispered about _broken_ and _useless,_ and, _the war isn’t over, sweetheart, how can I—_

“You have given enough,” Rey said firmly, leaning down to kiss his temple. She found tears streaked into the hair there, and she wiped the saltwater away, licking her bottom lip and finding it there as well. “And the war will be over soon. Think of all you’ve done, Poe, all you accomplished, all the people you helped.” Poe nodded, silent in his misery once more, and he stayed there, collapsed on the linoleum. They didn’t move, even when a servant rang the bell for dinner.

That night, when the nightmare came, Rey woke and shook silently, tears coursing down her face. Poe rolled over, and with a deep exhalation awoke as well. She held as still as possible, praying that he would soon fall back asleep, but instead, his breath caught once more.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was roughened from sleep, and she closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that this, this reality, was not the dream, that her dream was distant and inaccurate, and illogical. “Are – are you crying?” He hadn’t seen her cry, other than the day they were reunited, and the day they had fought.

“No,” she sobbed, and then she rolled over onto her side, away from him, her whole body wracked with the evidence of her lie. Poe shifted over immediately, crowding against her back, his nose brushing along the back of her neck.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, agonized. “Don’t, don’t – c’mon sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong.” He dropped small kisses into her neck and shoulder, and Rey shook her head.

“Just a bad dream,” she managed to say. “It was just a dream.” The repetition was more for her benefit than his.

“What did you dream about?”

“You,” she said, choking slightly. “It was back when I thought you were – when they told me you were – oh _God_ Poe, you were dead, they took you away, and I didn’t know how to live without you, I was so lost.” She shifted, rolling over to face him, and he smoothed a hand over her sleep-rumpled, tear-stained cheeks.

“I’m here,” Poe whispered, his eyes less distant than they had been in weeks. “I’m right here, they didn’t take me away from you, they could never—”

“But they _did_ ,” Rey wailed, and she was lost to her grief once more. Poe held her until her sobs quieted, and for once, the pilot was uncharacteristically silent, clearly at a loss of what to say.

It wasn’t always Rey who had the nightmares, but while hers inspired tears and conversation, Poe’s led to him sitting by himself across the room, his hands laced behind his head, his eyes vacant when she asked questions of him, sitting up in their bed, holding the covers up to her chest as though it could protect her from whatever ghosts were haunting the pair of them.

Poe would always be fine in the mornings after those dreams, however, and he made a clear effort to smile a little brighter, laugh a little louder at Armitage’s jokes. His hands would shake, particularly his broken one, and the shadows under his eyes deepened as the dreams grew more frequent, but Poe was here, and he was alive, and he was mostly healthy.

Things weren’t perfect, but Rey would soon realize that she should have read a little more into the signs that things were far from even halfway acceptable.

***

It came to a head in late January.

They were sitting in their room, Rey with a book, and Poe smiling at her while she read aloud. They were happy today, both of them happy, the weak winter sun streaming through and warming them both almost as much as the company did. Rey would look up from a page at times, her finger hovering to turn to the next one, and she’d catch Poe staring at her, his eyes wistful, his smile soft. He had mouthed _I love you,_ more times than she could count, and she squirmed with joy each time.

Things were normal. Things could be normal.

Poe gasped theatrically when Rey read the passage about Rochester’s adamant declaration of love for Jane, and she tried to keep the smile out of her voice through the entire betrothal scene.

Things could be normal.

A car backfired on the street, startling Rey slightly. She dropped _Jane Eyre,_ and it fell to the floor with a thud, and she shrugged and bent to pick it up. On her way back up to re-settle in her chair, she heard another thud – looking up, she saw Poe pressed to the wall next to the window.

His breathing was shallow, his eyes more vacant than she’d seen them in the last weeks, locked onto the opposite wall, seeing nothing. His mouth was open as he panted slightly, and his muscles were locked, his injured hand clutched to his chest as though he were protecting it.

“Poe?” Rey said softly, worrying that he had been startled too. “Poe, it’s just a car.”

No response.

“It was just a car, darling,” she tried again. Her papa hadn’t liked loud noises either, but her mama was often able to call him back with logic and a soft voice. She’d try that, it might work. Rey stood from the chair and walked towards him. “Poe, love, you’re in London, you heard a car backfire, there’s nothing happening.”

Poe was muttering something now, something almost too quiet for her to hear. It was the Lord’s Prayer, in Spanish. Her heart throbbed, and she kneeled down next to him. He still made no sign of hearing her.

“Poe Dameron,” she tried again, clearing her throat gently, and starting to reach out. “It’s me, Rey Andor. We’re in London. You heard a car—” she touched his shoulder, and he startled away, knocking her arm away quickly with his uninjured hand. He fell back gracelessly to the floor, his eyes wild now, with a horrible shout and a curse.

“Stay away!” He barked, trembling violently. His hand went to his side, and her heart clenched realizing he was reaching for a weapon that was no longer there. She sat back quickly, holding her hands out to show she had nothing in them. He was looking at her, but not. Rey doubted Poe could see her at all.

“It’s me,” she said, tears in her voice. “It’s Rey, you’re in London, England, you got back from the front twenty days ago, there was a car on the street. You’re in London, you’re with Rey—”

The door burst open, and Rey shrieked. Ben was in the doorway, looking vaguely panicked, and his eyes fell on the situation, quickly assessing. Rey took up her litany once more, “You’re in London, you’re with Rey, you’re safe—"

Poe blinked, his breathing calming slightly, and his eyes growing more in focus. Horror grew there, and he scrambled back further, his hand still tight to his chest.

“Rey,” Ben spoke now, his hand outstretched. She barely spared him a glance, too busy looking at Poe, trying to tell Poe it was alright, that she was fine, she loved him – if only she could stop crying, she could tell him. “Rey, come here.”

She sobbed hysterically, and Poe said, weakly, “Rey.” It was the only word he said before collapsing slightly, falling all the way back, drawing his knees to his chest, his own sobs now coming.

“Rey,” Ben urged. “Now.” She stood shakily and rushed to the door, and Ben gently guided her out of the room and into Armitage’s arms, who was waiting there. He guided her down the hallway as Ben walked in to sit with Poe.

The last thing she heard before the door closed was a sobbed, repeated, broken, “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—_ ”

***

 “A car backfired,” Rey said miserably. “He probably thought it was a gun.”

“Shell shock,” Ben said quietly after Poe had fallen asleep. “He acted the way he would if he were still on that battlefield.”

“It’s like I wasn’t even there,” she whispered. “Like anything I said or did, he wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t until I touched him—”

“He didn’t react well,” Ben noted. Rey winced and nodded. “So, don’t touch him when it happens. Talk to him, but don’t touch him. It wouldn’t do if you got hurt.”

“It wouldn’t.” Rey looked up, startled, the tears on her face not even dried. Poe stood there, his eyes still vacant. It was as though a ghost had taken up residence in Poe Dameron’s body. “If you got hurt.” He shook his head, not finishing the thought.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Rey protested, rising from the table. “Poe, I’m fine, you weren’t violent at all—”

“But I could have been.” He looked tormented, and Rey walked to him, taking his arm, and leading him away from Ben and the dining room. They reached the privacy of their room, and Rey closed the door. He opened his mouth but nothing came out, so she moved for them both.

She led him to the bed, and they lay down side by side, her hand tracing a pattern up and down his arm. Poe barely blinked, barely acknowledged the touch, and she shivered at the emptiness of his gaze.

“Poe?” She whispered, after ten minutes of silence had passed. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

Rey didn’t know what terrified her more: if he were lying, or if he were telling the truth.

***

Poe returned to America a week later.

“I need to see my pa,” he had said, his jaw tight. It was only two days after the car incident. “He wrote to me.”

“I know,” Rey said. “He wrote to me, as well.” And in the letter, Kes Dameron had said he’d wanted to see his son as soon as possible – but he’d included Rey in that figure, saying ‘ _I can’t wait to see you both, and meet the girl that my son is so wild about.’_

“I need to be home,” Poe said, his voice breaking. Rey blinked and looked more closely at his face. This was the most emotion he had shown since his breakdown. “I need to see my – you understand?” Rey nodded, and covered his uninjured hand with her own.

“I understand.”

He returned to America in the first week of February, without Rey Andor.

“I’ll write to you, every day,” Rey promised, kissing his cheek at the dock. Poe nodded and kissed her cheek as well. “You’ll write me?” She hated the desperate edge to her voice, and Poe nodded once more.

“Yeah,” he murmured, staring at the large ship that would take him back across the Atlantic. “Just…just need to go home.”

The captain called one last time for all to board, and Rey fought viciously against the urge to cry. “We’ll see each other soon,” she said, squeezing his hand. Poe adjusted his bag on his shoulder and nodded again, his eyes staring over her shoulder. The bustling crowd of the dock seemed to demand more of his attention at the moment, and she raised her voice in order for him to hear her. “I love you, Poe Dameron.”

“I know.” Poe’s eyes passed over her face briefly, he gave a ghost of a smile – and he was gone.

Poe Dameron returned to America.

And the letter she sent the next day, and the next, and the next, and the ones after that – went unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay in update - hopefully I'll post the next one this weekend (and there are three chapters left)


	15. Letters, 1945

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey writes to Poe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything italicized is the letter's content - anything with 'normal' font is narration.

**February 10, 1945**

_Poe,_

_As promised, here’s my second letter. I said I’d write every day, and I meant it! Us girls from the North always make good on our promises._

_I love you. I love you so much, incomprehensibly so, and although the days ahead seem to stretch out towards an unbearable sort of infinity, I know it will make it all the sweeter when I see you again._

_Bletchley Baby ate my last pair of socks, if you can believe it. I’m not sure how such a tiny creature can cause such incredible damage. Armitage laughed for a minute, and then he went and bought me new socks, which was greatly appreciated. Ben offered to take B.B. away and enlist him, which I was less interested in._

_I do hope you give your father my love._

_I hope Florida is warmer than England. I miss the sun. I miss you._

_Love,_

_Rey Andor_

**February 23, 1945**

_My dearest,_

_Can it only have been a fortnight since I last saw you? Sometimes on the street, I see men with dark hair wearing green or navy blue, and I swear it’s you come back to me at last. More than once I’ve apologized to a gentleman for mistaking him for my love, gone away over the sea._

_Knowing that you are alive brings me such hope, darling, you have no idea. I never want to go back to those dark weeks where I thought you lost – I know you are still healing, and I know you are in pain, but please Poe, I beg you, send me some sort of sign that you receive these letters, that you are truly, wonderfully, actually still part of this world. My memory of you from January feels more treacherous by the day; the dreams have returned more powerfully before, and without you next to me, I’m beginning to think that maybe, perhaps, I did imagine you there for all those nights after all._

_The office continues to work towards the glorious dream of ending the Third Reich once and for all. Ben and Amy send their love, as does Rosie. Finn says he sends you ‘a kick in the pants,’ and he made sure to remind me to tell you he ‘still can’t do much kicking,’ so you are under advisement to take his threat with a grain of salt._

_You have my love most of all, Poe Dameron, now and forever._

_Rey Andor._

**February 28, 1945**

_Dear Miss Andor,_

_My sons health isn’t much better since I last wrote you. He doesnt sleep well and hes not doing much eating either. Im able to remember how he was before the war, before Bletchley and Germany and that horrible day where he lost everything so its been almost more than I can bear seeing my boy this way._

_I beged him to write you back. Im not much for writing and barely finished school so I’m sure you woulda prefered reading his letters. Poe always was good at words. I know its hard to not hear from him but you need to know that he doesn’t talk either. The only time I see him smile or even sorta smile is when I read him your letters._

_Please keep hoping for the best. I will to._

_Thank you for all you do for my boy, sweet Rey from England. I cannt wait until we meet and I can put a face to all the things Ive been hearing about you._

_Love,_

_Kes._

**March 9, 1945**

_Poe,_

_I’ve not felt any better since I last wrote you, which isn’t surprising as it’s been less than twenty four hours. I was sent home early from work today, so I’ve had plenty of time to write. I was awfully tired though, so I slept for a good few hours before writing. It’s just a bug though, something that’s been going around the office (Ben was sick for a whole three days, and he was moaning on and on about his suffering. He stopped once Amy threatened to suffocate him with one of their pillows)._

_I wonder if I should have gotten sick were I in Florida. Probably not. I can’t imagine it the way you’ve described it: sunny, warm, and beautiful – except during this horrible storms you talked about – with beaches of sand as far as the eye can see. I hope it’s bringing you peace and calm during these months._

_~~I miss you terribly.~~ _

_~~I referred to you as my husband the other day, and I almost started crying because the woman in the shop asked if you had been killed in action, and my honest reaction was to answer yes.~~ _

_~~There’s been a hole inside of me since you left, and I’ve felt it this whole time – only now I think it’s been there since you were sent away from Bletchley, and I’m not sure it even left when you came back for those short weeks.~~ _

_~~Write to me. Dear fucking God, I’m going mad. Is it too much to ask, that you would write to me? There’s so much I need to tell you, my soul to yours, so much that has transpired that I cannot put into a bloody fucking letter with basic inquiries after your weather or your house or your father. Christ on the cross I shall scream if I don’t hear from you.~~ _

Rey crumpled up the paper, and threw it in the bin next to her desk. She buried her face in her hands and wept; she wept for long, horrible, shuddering minutes, her lungs catching, her throat burning from the tears mixed with a coughing fit, she sobbed uncontrollably and felt the stabbing, endless, agonizing pain of a man she had known, and now feared she would never know again.

Rey Andor wiped her tears, dried her eyes, and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. She began again.

**March 9, 1945**

_Dear Poe,_

_The office has been spectacularly sick, and not even I escaped it. I know what you are thinking: if only our country had some sunlight, we wouldn’t be sick all the time. You are absolutely right._

_Has your weather been fair? I wonder if you saw the picture that just came out – your father mentioned that you were going to try and see it. I think that’s absolutely lovely, and I hope you did go. I don’t think I’ll have time to see it, so you better be prepared to give me a very thorough summary and review of it._

_I love you to bits, Poe Dameron. Write me soon._

_Rey Andor_

 

**March 15, 1945**

_Dear Poe,_

_I need you to write to me. I haven’t…I haven’t completely begged you to, and maybe that’s my fault, but please. Please, I need to speak to you._

_Rey_

**March 25, 1945**

Ben Solo jogged down the street, two letters in his hand. The first was postmarked to Poe Dameron, of Ocean Avenue, Miami, Florida. The other was postmarked to Kes Dameron of Ocean Avenue, Miami, Florida. Both letters were addressed in the crisp, neat, undeniable penmanship of Leia Organa-Solo.

He caught the postman before he turned the corner, and thrust them at him, panting. “Please,” he spluttered. “Please, these need to go out today.” The man took the letters with a nod and a pleasant salutation, and Ben stared at him as he retreated.

“Read them,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a large hand through his unkempt hair. “Dear God, please read them.”

Ben Solo was a devout follower of the church of figures and algorithm, a disciple of reason and logic. He held no stock in the petty beliefs of mankind, and trusted wholly in the structural balance of the universe to keep his world working like clockwork. He worshipped no god, and could imagine no higher power.

But on that spring day, he closed his eyes and prayed, prayed that at least one man addressed in the letters who read them and respond at last, would realize that the months of silence had worn on for too long, and had become something wholly destructive for one of the few people in his life he could count as a friend. “Please,” he muttered one last time. “Please.”

It was the first time he had prayed since he was a boy, and he learned that his friend’s parents had died in an untimely accident, the first time he had prayed since he heard her tears through the walls of his home.

But it did not stop a particularly savage rainstorm from ravaging a pile of mail in transit, and it certainly didn’t stop two small, seemingly inconsequential letters from being ruined, turned illegible by the uncaring, unblinking forces of nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters left....


	16. You'll Never Know if You Don't Know Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe Dameron tries to find his way back to Rey Andor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from Vera Lynn's "You'll Never Know"

**March 22, 1945**

_Dear Rey,_

_~~There isn’t a thing in the world I can say to make up for the last months.~~ _

_~~I love you. Let me say that first. Let the words be enough here on the page when all I want is to whisper them in your ear. I love you. I love you. I love you.~~ _

_~~Have you gone dancing, since I left for the continent? Have you missed it? You looked so pretty that night, starlight in your hair, the first night you really gave me a chance. Do you regret giving me that chance?~~ _

_~~If I asked you to marry me now, would you say yes?~~ _

_Forgive me. You never should have had to beg. I’m the one who should beg, beg you to take me back, beg you to give me another chance, beg you to smile at me even one more time. I feel like it was a different person who said goodbye to you on the dock that morning, some other person inhabiting my skin and directing my actions and even my thoughts. My mind wasn’t my own, sweetheart, and some days it still isn’t. I don’t know how to come back from the war, I don’t know if I ever will, and I don’t know how to get back to being the man who even halfway deserved to be at your side._

_I don’t know why I couldn’t write to you. My pa was ready to throw me out to the street, I could tell. He read me your letters on the days I couldn’t, so he read me most of your letters. My hands would shake too hard to hold the paper, so I convinced myself some days that they’d shake too hard to hold a pen. But, to be honest, I couldn’t write because … something in me just … stopped. I just stopped, my whole life stopped, I was frozen, stuck, halfway dead._

_I loved you through all of it, Rey Andor, how could I not? How many times did I picture you at my side, maybe on a white, pretty swing on our front porch, B.B. on your lap, my arm around your shoulder? You were my wife in those dreams Rey, you were my wife every time, even when my brain fucked up too bad to let me get out of bed, and I sunk myself into that picture and refused to come back out, even when your words, your sweet, loving words were there as a lifeline._

_Could you forgive me? I’m not even sure if I want you to forgive me. I’ve done too much wrong by you to deserve it. I’m afraid that I can’t be the man you deserve, the man you need, the man you fell in love with. My hands still shake, I can’t sleep through the night without losing my fucking mind – I don’t think I’ve made a joke and meant it since before Malmedy._

_Are you happy?_

_The idea of you happy is the only thing that keeps me sane, that reminds me that maybe, now, after months of me piecing it all back together, your happiness has been won without me, can be kept without me, and can continue on, without some sorry excuse for a man holding you back._

_I love you. I’ll never love anyone like I love you. And at one point, you loved me too._

_That will have to be enough._

_Yours, forever,_

_Poe Dameron_

He finished the last of the letter and slumped back in his chair. Poe rubbed his sore hand thoughtfully, the tremor in his fingers still apparent even after his months of healing. A breath in through his nose, back out through his mouth, in through his nose – a pattern he still fought to maintain here and now, in Florida all the months after his injury, after his friends dying left and right, after the Germans found a new way to completely alter the world Poe used to rejoice to be part of.

He read through the letter again, rubbing the rough growth on his jaw absentmindedly. Something in him snapped by the last paragraph, and Poe swept to his feet, walked to the back door, and walked out into his pa’s backyard. There, under a section of the sky that looked different than the one Rey Andor looked at, Poe flicked his lighter dispassionately. The letter curled at the edges as the fire caught, and Poe stared at it while he let it flutter to the dirt below.

“Mijo?” His father spoke gently, still afraid to frighten him through a sudden appearance. Poe grunted to acknowledge he’d heard, and Kes walked up slowly behind him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “At least you wrote today.” Poe had written at least ten letters in response to his sweetheart’s – all of them ended up in some state of ash around this very yard.

Poe nodded miserably, and then blinked, his face screwing up without warning. Great, heaving sobs coursed through his body, and Kes exclaimed softly in surprise. “Poe?” He helped his son navigate towards the ground, and they knelt together in the balmy spring air. Kes rubbed Poe’s back as he cried, truly cried, for the first time since he’d returned home at the end of January.

***

After that night in the backyard, Poe found himself very ill: physically so, this time. As though the pent-up grief and rage inside of himself had manifested into sickness, Poe fought a different battle, this time against a racking cough, a violent nausea, and a constant, blinding headache. It lasted two full weeks, and Poe was in misery the whole time.

And never had misery brought such hope.

Gone were the long weeks of feeling nothing at all, gone was the inclination to pull blankets over his head and ignore every potential thing in the galaxy, even the things he loved – Poe fought against his cold, and towards the end, when his headache had abated, he pulled out the stack of letters (thirty-five, to be exact) and re-read each one.

Some made him laugh – “ _Ben and B.B. did battle again today, and you can imagine the disaster it caused in the house. I’m still not sure how such a small cat could knock a man Ben’s size down the stairs, but it managed to complete its mission all the same.”_

Others caused him to smile, bittersweet, and pained – _“You’ll be pleased to know that Ben and Amy wed just yesterday afternoon. It came as a bit of a shock: Amy turned to Ben and asked why they were not already married, and the rest took less than three hours to put together. The weather was terrible, the china was slightly chipped (to Amy’s dismay), and the cake a little dry, but there were never two happier people, nor happier friends. It was just me, Ben’s mother, and the happy couple, but we must have celebrated until midnight!”_

And some letters took him an entire day to get through. Those gripped him by the heart, and threatened judgement, panic, agony – “ _Please write to me…” “…if only I knew you were alright, Poe, it should make this easier.” “I love you. No matter what, I love you.” “…It isn’t healthy, I know, but I’ve taken to marking the days you are absent in chalk on my bedroom wall. Ben saw it and thought I had gone positively loony. Although to be fair, I might have.”_

He whispered a fervent apology after each letter like this, each letter that reminded him of how he had abandoned her, turned his back on her yet again. She always sounded wistful, not accusatory, which only made him feel weaker. If she had been angry, if she had told him he had no reason not to speak to her – then he could have gotten angry in response, and felt more secure in his current silence. But her infinite patience, kindness, and understanding greatly succeeded in reminding him of how little he deserved a girl like Rey Andor.

On the tenth morning of April, he finished re-reading the last of the letters. Now it felt like every word, every carefully forged phrase was part of him, branded onto his heart and claiming him, most truthfully, as belonging to Rey Andor. He pressed the exhausted sentences to his lips and closed his eyes, tears spilling out as he reacquainted himself with her grief – grief that he did not willfully cause, but grief he was the source of, nonetheless. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, setting the letter down onto his lap. He hadn’t moved from the bed yet today, and he stood shakily and walked to the front of house, where his father was preparing lunch.

“Papa?” Kes turned around and smiled at him, and it carved something even deeper into Poe – this odd sense of shame that he logically knew he had no ownership of, but shame he owned all the same. The lines around his father’s eyes, the stress in his jaw, the now entirely silver of his hair – Poe had done that. Poe cleared his throat. “Papa, where are the rest of her letters?” His father had been so terrified of Poe’s breakdown in March that he’d stopped even mentioning Rey (the grief had been too much, then, and it had never failed to set him on an hours-long panic to hear her name).

Kes set the bread knife down and dusted his hands off on his pants. He didn’t answer, so Poe repeated the question. “Where are the letters after March 15?”

His father sighed and shook his head. “There are none.”

Poe frowned; his stomach grabbed onto the news faster than his mind could, and plummeted. “What? How could that be?” He lapsed entirely into Spanish as he spoke, and Kes gestured for him to take a seat. _I’ve only been standing for five minutes,_ Poe wanted to argue. But Poe was tired. He sat. “There aren’t any more letters?”

Kes sat down across from him and covered Poe’s non-scarred hand with his own. “No. I’m so sorry, mijo. She stopped writing after March 15 – I haven’t gotten any letters either.”

Poe remembered the words of her last letter, the ones he had just re-read:

_I need you to write to me. I haven’t…I haven’t completely begged you to, and maybe that’s my fault, but please. Please, I need to speak to you._

His breath caught painfully in his throat, and he began to shake his head without realizing it. “No,” he muttered. “No, that’s not – that can’t – she promised.” He dragged a hand through his curls, now longer than they’d been since he was nineteen years old. “Rey promised to write every day, she wouldn’t…she’d…”

“It’s been over two months,” Kes said delicately, pulling his hand back. His father looked so tired, Poe realized. He had done this. “She…she might have thought you’d never respond, and stopped.”

“No,” Poe repeated the word obstinately, not caring that his voice rose, and his father flinched. “No, _no._ Rey isn’t like that, she wouldn’t give up on me. She’d march over here and slap me upside the head before…before…no, something – something has to be wrong, something’s wrong, papa, I know it—” He hyperventilated, and Kes stood up quickly, walking to his side of the table. He wrapped his arms around his son and lowered his chin to the top of his head and shushed him as a mother would a babe.

“I’m sure she’s fine, mijo,” Kes soothed, while Poe continued to rant and gasp for air. “She’s fine, she—”

“She must hate me,” Poe sobbed, gripping his father’s arm. “She must think I don’t care about her, and that’s not true, it’s not, it’s not, I was going to marry her, _dad,_ I just wanted to marry her, and now it’s all fucked--” Kes kissed his son’s head and held him through the worst of the storm.

When it had passed, they talked about what he could do.

***

First, he wrote a letter. His hand shook, but he got through the apology, bled it onto the paper. He postmarked it that afternoon, and pretended it hadn’t taken him four hours to write three sentences. Poe handed it over at the post office and trudged home, dodging the apologetic looks of girls on the street – what a sight he must make, his jacket tattered, his beard thick, hair unruly, eyes wild – and when it rained, a random, Florida afternoon storm, Poe stopped and breathed, did nothing but breathe, and nothing but realize – it had been over two months since he’d been away from his father’s property. He had almost forgotten the rest of the world existed.

After he had written his letter, it was his turn to wait. A week passed, and then another. He wrote thirteen letters in this time, and sent six of them.

He got no response. He pretended it didn’t hurt.

Next, he wrote to Ben Solo. This letter was sent on April 25th, and an answer was received on May 1st.

_Maj. Dameron,_

_My dear ~~husband~~ friend refused to answer your communique dated the twenty-fifth of April. I encouraged him strongly to reconsider, but he tossed your letter into the rubbish and would not hear of it. Joy was absent our household for several days as a result, especially after I fished your letter from the rubbish, and tried at least thirty-one more times to get him to change his mind._

_He would like for you to know one thing (because of course, when I mentioned I would respond in his stead, he had something to say, surprising precisely no one): he says, ‘tell Dameron he had his chance when my mother sent him the news.’ He says the letter marked March 25, 1945 will explain his rationale regarding his anger towards you._

_My own anger towards you is much more selfish in nature – I have been denied the pleasure of your company these two months, and if your health allows it, I should very much like to receive you once more in our home. With you gone, the American soldier named Trooper gone to recover in the country, and our mutual, lovely drop of Sunshine gone from London as well, it has been lonely in this nest._

_With anger and love (‘but mostly anger,’ says Ben)_

_Armitage Hux III_

Poe’s mind reeled after reading Hux’s answer; he nearly lost his mind again searching for the damn letter from March 25.

“There wasn’t a letter,” Kes protested while Poe tore at his curls, tears leaking from his eyes. “Poe, I swear to you, there was no letter from that day, not a single one after the fifteenth, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“What if you weren’t home, and it was delivered, huh?” Poe sobbed, shaking the stack of letters at his father uselessly. “What if I took it, and I lost it, and I can’t remember because I can barely fucking remember anything now?”

It had taken him three hours to calm down, and then another five after he reviewed one of Rey’s last letters.

“She was sick,” Poe choked out, sitting at the foot his father’s bed in the early morning, like he had when he was a child trying to escape bad dreams. “She was _sick,_ papa, and she was trying to tell me. What if that’s why she isn’t writing back? What if that’s why she doesn’t live in London anymore?”

“She had a cold, mijo.” His father rubbed his eyes tiredly – he had been woken from his sleep by Poe when he’d marched in waving the letter as evidence – and part of Poe curled in guilt for having disturbed what little rest his father had been able to achieve. “People get colds. They get over colds.”

“You don’t know Rey like I do,” Poe said, his guilt forgotten in the overwhelming face of his panic. “She doesn’t _stop,_ she doesn’t take breaks, she just keeps going—”

The conversation lasted ‘til dawn, and Kes slept until noon. Poe didn’t sleep at all.

Finally, Poe found himself at the dock on the western border of the Atlantic Ocean, on the morning of May 4, 1945. Hitler was dead, the war was ending – and Poe was returning to England to find his love.

“What am I gonna tell her?” Poe asked his father blearily, staring up at the ship in hurtful anticipation.

“Tell her the truth,” Kes urged him, cupping his cheek tenderly. They stood in line together – Poe was almost ashamed to admit it, but he didn’t think he’d be strong enough to make the crossing without his father at his side. “You have a few days to figure it out, mijo.” Poe nodded, and his father clapped him on the back. They took a step forward towards the gangplank, and then another.

And then another.

***

The war with Germany ended officially while Poe Dameron was still crossing the Atlantic. He hugged his father when the news broke, and he hugged a stranger, and then another - he was swept up in the joy of it, so relieved that the war, the terrible destruction in Europe, was finally coming to an official end. VE-Day, they called it - a potent reminder of victories yet to be had in the Pacific - a cause for celebration.

Poe grabbed the railing of the steamship and stared eastward, towards his heart, his love, his future. 

It was the first time he had truly felt hope in over half a year.

***

As Armitage had said, Rey Andor was no longer in London.

He managed to gather from one of the girls at her office – Ben Solo had refused to speak to him when he arrived, seeking information – that Rey had left in late March. His worst fear was confirmed when the young woman tugged his sleeve on his way out the door (his shoulders slumped in defeat after Ben’s cold dismissal), and whispered, _She took ill and went home, Major._

Poe had stared at her, shocked, and the girl only repeated what she had to say and then moved on.

Rey went home. But what was home?

He and Kes found themselves on a northbound train towards Bletchley Park, and his feet felt like lead even as his stomach swarmed with butterflies and moths and cicadas and everything in between when he traced the steps he’d taken so often; but this time, he  walked through the streets of the village without the love of his life at his side.

His feet didn’t feel any lighter as he trudged up the steps to Rey’s flat, the small apartment above the charming house on the side of town. The landlady hadn’t blinked before waving Poe up, clearly recognizing him from last year (and Poe prayed that was a good sign, that after a mandatory shave and haircut and change of clothes, he didn’t appear too different from the man he was, the man he used to be). His hand shook like normal when he raised it to knock. He knocked twice. Three times seemed too lucky.

Poe only had to wait seven seconds before the door opened.

Rose Tico was on the other side. They stared at each other for a long moment.

And then Rose started to yell.

***

After a long, tearful (on Poe’s part) conversation over tea, Rose was yelling slightly less, and Poe found that his own anxiety hadn’t lessened in the slightest. He learned that Rose had taken the flat from Rey after she left London, and she hadn’t been back other than to gather her things. “But where?” Poe asked, at wits’ end.

“Home,” Rose answered enigmatically. “She went home, Major Dameron.”

“I need to find her,” he said, tears rising in his eyes again. “Please. Even if it’s just for her to tell me it’s over, and she never wants to see my face again. I have to see her one more time, Rosie, please, you gotta believe me. I shoulda been here this whole time, and I’m sorry, I’m so _fucking_ sorry, I want to do right by her, I’d do anything, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Rose interrupted, an odd look on her face. “Just. If you do find her, will you leave her again?”

“No,” Poe answered solemnly, honestly. “I wouldn’t be able to.”

“Alright then.” Rose cocked her head at him and shrugged. “Let’s go, then.”

“What?” Poe blinked at her, not really understanding. “You’ll…you’ll take me to her?”

“It’s that or watch you cry all over my things for the next hour,” Rose shrugged and stood, gathering her bag and slipping on her shoes. Poe stayed where he was, still shocked. “Unless… you weren’t being serious?” Her voice had an edge of steel, and Poe sprang to attention faster than he would if a drill sergeant had called for him.

“Let’s go,” he said, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Please? Thank you?”

“That’s more like it.”

They walked to a car parked near the flat, and Poe sat next to Rose while she started the ignition. “Are you here alone?” Rose asked him, over the sound of the engine. Poe shook his head.

“Nah,” he answered as they drove through down. “I’m here with my dad.”

“We’ve got quite a drive ahead of us, Major,” Rose said. Poe raised his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged. “We should probably let him know.”

They picked his father up from The Falcon, and he decided to stay back at Rose’s while Poe and Rose left town and headed north.

Home.

Poe remembered Rey’s intermittent references to her childhood, the home she’d had before her parents were taken from her. She referred to being a northerner more than once, and he felt foolish as they drove on in silence, foolish for having not realized what was meant by _home._ Rey had gone home, just as Poe had. But to heal from what was anyone’s guess.

“I’m coming,” he promised in a low whisper that was quickly stolen by the wind and unheard by the driver. “I’m coming, sweetheart.”

They drove for hours, the sun passing overhead and illuminating the increasingly wild countryside. Poe watched it change, a strange sense of love and nostalgia for a place he’d never known rising in his throat. This was Rey’s childhood, he realized. These fields and hills, these rivers and trees. This was the place that had made the woman he loved.

Rose cursed suddenly and turned down a well-concealed lane. “I always miss that turn,” she offered as an apology. Poe nodded, his throat too full for him to speak. The lane was wooded, and the light shone at the end of the way. His breath caught once more as Rose pulled through to the end, and put the car in park.

To call it a mansion would be a severe understatement. It was a massive estate, multiple stories tall, with impeccably kept gardens, a dozen statues in sight, and fascinating windows that faced the eastern sky.

“This is where Rey lives?” Poe murmured, staring up at it, his eyes wide.

“Sometimes,” Rose shrugged when he looked at her. “It’s her parents’ home, the one she inherited, when they…”

There was a brief silence, and then Rose poked him in the arm. “Go,” she urged him. “You came all this way. Go.” Poe nodded, silent once more, and climbed out of the car. Rose didn’t follow him.

He climbed the shallow steps and walked to the front door. Poe grabbed the ornate knocker and lifted it, and then dropped it with a satisfying thud.

The doors opened almost automatically, a startling fact. Poe’s heart seized in his chest – _he was going to see her again, he was going to get to see her_ – as the door opened fully and revealed the person on the other side.

It felt like missing a step going downstairs – the eyes he saw were not hazel, not brown with flashes of warm green, not the eyes of the woman he loved at all. Instead, he looked into a pair of eyes so clear and cloudy, they were almost completely blue.

The blind man tilted his head, his robes not typical of an English butler (but Poe had a feeling this was no butler). He opened his mouth to speak, but instead, the man laughed and shook his head.

“Poe Dameron,” he said carefully, as though finding his name both marvelous and mundane. Poe froze in shock. “You’ve come at last.” The man turned and walked into the large house, and Poe stared after him for several seconds, not crossing the threshold until he spoke again. “Come in, come in. Our little sister has been expecting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (One chapter remains)


	17. Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of our tale

It was a calm day at Lah’mu, and Rey enjoyed the warm sunlight coming through the closed window of her first floor sitting room. A blanket was pulled over her legs to fend off the chill damp of the old house, and a pot of tea was at her side; B.B. was curled on her lap, purring in his sleep. Things were as perfect as they were going to get, now, as perfect as they could be, after.

In the afternoon, Baze entered the room and smiled at her – in his own, particular Baze way – and Rey looked up from the paper to return the smile. “Is it moved?” She asked, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Was it too heavy? I told you I could help.”

“You worry too much, little sister,” Baze said with a wave of his hand. “I finished half an hour ago.”

“Thank you, Baze.” Rey sighed and folded her paper and adjusted the blanket over her lap. “I very much appreciate it.”

“Best to get it done now while the weather’s still good,” Baze noted. In the winter, his arthritis would most likely act up too much to allow him to move anything besides his own body.

“Mmm,” Rey nodded her head in agreement and rested her head on the back of her armchair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Chirrut.”

“What about Chirrut?” Her blind guardian stood in the doorway and smiled pleasantly at her. Rey smiled back although he couldn’t see (something about the mysterious man had always told her he could, in his way).

“Just compliments,” Baze said, blowing a kiss to his husband. Rey and Baze did not so much as blink when Chirrut reached out and caught it.

“I have someone here to see you, Rey.” Chirrut leaned his staff against the door and reached his hand out to her. Rey did not budge from her space on the chair.

“Someone came to see me?” She repeated, frowning. “I’m not expecting any visitors.”

“Aren’t you?” Gesturing at someone out of sight, Chirrut smiled mysteriously, but she soon understood the mystery behind it when a ghost walked through the door, his hands in his pockets, his cheeks bright pink.

Rey stared at Poe Dameron, gone from her life for the last agonizing four months, stared at him to memorize the contours of his face once more, the smooth lines of his shoulders, the planes of his body, the curl of his black hair. Rey stared at him, and he stared back, his face once more animated, his eyes once more alive (and tinged with sadness, regret, pain, and many things she dared not name).

“Hey Sunshine,” Poe said weakly, his voice reaching out to her from across the room.

“No.” Rey said faintly. Then, stronger: “No.”

He walked in past Baze and Chirrut towards her chair, dragging an anxious hand through his hair, that old familiar habit that caused her stomach to clench unbearably. “Chirrut here invited me in, and I –”

“He shouldn’t have,” Rey scolded her old friend over Poe’s shoulder. Chirrut did not have the decency to look ashamed.

“He really shouldn’t have.” Baze reached out and cuffed him on the shoulder. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking she and the pilot had some unfinished business,” Chirrut said mildly, dodging Baze’s next swipe. “And they would do well to settle it.”

“I can settle it,” Rey said sharply, turning her gaze onto Poe. He flinched physically when she looked at him, as though she’d been able to strike him from her current position on the couch – a position she would not yield. “I have nothing to say to you, now, or ever. So, get out.”

“That’s,” Poe cleared his throat, and covered his mouth with his hand. “That’s fair.”

“Enjoy your talk, children!” Chirrut shouted, pulling on Baze’s arm and vacating the room. The door shut behind them, and Rey glared at it. Her discomfort was picked up on by Bletchley Baby, who woke and stretched sweetly in her lap, yawning and exposing his white fangs. Rey ran an admiring fingertip along the points of his teeth, ignoring the man standing in front of her.

“He’s so big,” Poe marveled. B.B. looked up at the sound of his voice, and meowed delightedly. He hopped off Rey’s lap before she could stop him and zipped to Poe’s side, meeping and preening once he reached Poe, weaving in and out of his legs and announcing his terrific excitement. “Well, that makes one of you.” Poe jokingly conversed with the cat, something that would have endeared him to Rey not even half a year ago. Now, it just made her more angry.

Her expression certainly betrayed her ire, for Poe’s own face fell upon seeing hers. “I can leave,” he muttered. “I – I came to tell you – no. No, it doesn’t matter. You told me to leave. I’ll respect that.” He straightened the lapels of his coat and nodded desolately, staring at the floor, the tentative exuberance of only a moment ago already forgotten. “I got my answer anyway.”

Rey watched as he turned to the door, ready to let him go, ready to let the anger and hurt of his silence allow her to let go of the best man she had ever met – but her eye caught on the tremor of his hand as he reached for the doorknob, and something in her twinged in sympathy. He came all this way, after all.

“What did you come here to say?” Rey said. Poe froze, his back stiff, and pivoted. His back leaned against the heavy oak of the door while he regarded her. Something almost frightened seized him, and Rey waited for it to pass before she asked again. “Tell me what you wanted to say to me. Why are you here? To ask me to take you back?”

“No.” Poe shook his head, his throat working over something, but spoke not another word.

“To – to tell me it’s over, then?”

“ _No._ ” More adamant this time, but Rey spoke over it, as though he had not answered at all.

“Because, let me tell you, you did not need to cross an ocean to tell me that – I read it perfectly well in your letters, or should I say, lack thereof.”

“I’m sorry,” Poe whispered, but she wasn’t done. Tears burned at her eyes, and her fists clutched the blanket bunched up around her lap, still covering the bottom half of her body.

“And I know,” her voice broke, but she did not, “I know how hurt you were, I saw it, I saw what the war did to you, and I wanted to understand, and I did, I _did,_ but you were gone for so long, and you didn’t answer a single one of my letters—”

“I’m sorry.” Poe walked forward, unfrozen from his watch at the door, and fell to his knees in supplication in front of her. He reached out, thought better of it, and returned his hands to his sides. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, you have no idea, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“And,” Rey said shrilly, wiping her eyes. “You – you _left me._ You left me all alone when I needed you, and I know you needed to heal, I know you needed help, but I needed you. I told you I needed you, and you didn’t respond, and it took you over a bloody month to get here!”

“I didn’t—” Poe looked like he was about to choke on air, which was the only reason Rey paused in her ranting. She felt mild alarm as he struggled with whatever anxiety overtook him in this moment, but soon he was cleared for speech again. “I know there was a letter that Leia sent because Ben told me, but I never got it, I swear to you, I never got it.”

“A likely story,” Rey sniffed. Hopelessness descended across both of them, and they relaxed in their respective tensions – Poe slumped on his knees, Rey curling further back in her armchair. “So. You didn’t get the letter, so you claim. You didn’t want to hurt me, per your apology, and _yet_ …Is there anything else you wanted to say before you left?” She eyed the door pointedly at the end of her question and then turned her face and stared out the window, wishing she were outdoors and not trapped in here.

“Are you happy?” Poe whispered. She had to look at him to make sure she had heard him right. His face was sheer agony, the pain in his eyes palpable, the tremor in his hands noticeable even as he held them at his sides. “Please, babydoll, tell me that much. Are you happy?”

She had no answer to that question. Could she be happy, with her lot in life? Without Poe Dameron? She knew the answer was logically yes, but with him in front of her, drawing out such confusing, conflicting reactions inside of her – maybe she shouldn’t be so sure.

Rey shifted and coughed uncomfortably, Poe’s eyes on her face – she watched them widen with concern. “Are you – are you still sick?”

“What?” Rey asked, coughing again. Poe lurched forward onto his feet, leaned over, and seized the mug of tea next to her. He handed it to her anxiously before falling back to his knees, his hand dragging through his hair, the panic in his eyes not receding.

“Are you sick?” Poe repeated wildly. “The – there was a girl at your office, said you’d taken ill. Others mentioned something about it, so I thought…I thought…”

Rey stiffened irately. “I’m … feeling much better.” It was not a lie. Her face was wan, pale, and thinner, her hair lank, but she did feel better. “I was quite ill for over a month, but that’s passed.” _Tell him,_ her sympathetic, foolish heart begged her. _If he says he never received the letter – he should know. He came all this way. You should tell him._

_Why? So he can just leave again? Or stay for the wrong reason?_

“Good.” Poe licked his bottom lip while staring off into space. He closed his eyes, and he looked like he was praying, down on his knees, his breathing ragged – “If…if you’re happy, if you’re safe…I can’t complain, can I?”

Rey had no response to that, and merely stared at him. Her emotions were powerful and clashing enough that she knew not how to proceed. Poe, however, could see the path laid out for them much better. He struggled to his feet once more and fidgeted with his coat.

“Before I go,” he whispered, half-turned to the door already. His brown eyes nearly burned her skin when he turned to look at her, once last time. “Before I – you deserved better. I wasn’t myself the first part of this year. I wasn’t really…anything. I read each of your letters, Rey Andor, and I read each of them over and over again until I knew them by heart. Even when I wasn’t sure of who I was anymore, I was sure that Rey Andor was the most wonderful person on the face of this goddamned planet, and I knew I loved you. I didn’t know how to love you, not when I was like that, and I read your letters, and I realized that simple fact over and over again. I couldn’t pick up a pen to write you because I could barely get out of bed most days, and if I’d written to you, it woulda been a mess, sweetheart.” He shook his head and turned away, his eyes half-shut from misery. Rey’s eyes did not leave his face while he continued, staring out the window she herself had examined for the better part of the morning.

“I got it into my head that I didn’t deserve to write to you because I didn’t deserve your words in the first place. And that was foolish of me, it was damned stupid. You taught me so many things, Rey – you’re so much smarter than I’ll ever be – and you taught me not to run from my problems, and not to make assumptions – and I forgot every one of those damn lessons when the Nazis …” he panted for breath and shook his head, and Rey very nearly forgot her promise to herself and stood. “When they…No. It’s not about that, not right now. You deserved better, period. You deserved better, and that’s that.”

He walked to the door and opened it; before he walked through (Rey almost called for him to wait, but her words lodged in her throat), he turned and smiled at her, a heartbroken smile that matched the one she gave to the mirror each morning.

“I love you to the moon and back,” Poe said. “I just wish it hadn’t taken me so long to get back.” He shook his head, tugged his jacket into place one last time, and raised a hand to her. “I hope you have the best life, Rey Andor.”

 _Wait,_ she wanted to call. Rey wanted to beg – she swore she wouldn’t, but when confronted with _this,_ this marvelous idea that he would want her, want her still, want her without knowledge of –

Poe was gone before she could get out the words _Come back,_ or, _I love you._ Poe Dameron was gone, and she began to weep once more.

An idea suddenly occurred to her, with her face buried in her hands, and Rey inhaled sharply, counting the seconds. Retreating footsteps paused near the foyer, and she counted the seconds, hand over her mouth, counted the seconds it took a clever pilot to put pieces together. _One, two, three…_

At eight seconds, the footsteps returned, louder and louder, and quicker and quicker, thundering down the passage from the foyer, and Rey forced herself to stand, throwing aside her blanket, at the same time Poe barged in the door, out of breath and more wild-eyed than he’d been a minute ago.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, eyes wide. “I just saw – the strangest thing – why’d you—” He spluttered to a halt, and Rey smiled at him nervously through her tears. "Why do you have a crib in your front hallway?" He asked weakly.

“Leia wrote to you,” she said, still weeping, the conflict of the day roaring inside her still. _He needs to know. No matter what. Even if he still leaves. Be brave._ “She wanted you to know – I begged her not to, but she said you had a right to know, and a responsibility to fulfill.”

Poe’s eyes lost the battle with his will (his manners shining through even in this fraught moment), and went to the place where her hand rested, on the small swell, now distinguishable through her thin, spring dress.

“When you didn’t answer,” Rey continued, as though she hadn’t just struck Poe with lightning (judging by his face, at least), “When you didn’t…I figured you didn’t…that you’d never…that you…” Her voice broke under the weight of the insecurities from the last four, painful months, and Poe walked swiftly to her side, finally able to talk.

“Babydoll,” he sobbed. She was crying, but he was crying harder. “No. No, no, no, oh God, no.” He was on his knees once more at her feet, and he gazed up at her imploringly. Rey choked on another sob and nodded when his hand hovered above her abdomen. His fingers pressed against the bump reverently, his eyes wider than saucers, his lips whispering some holy prayer she assumed was only for God’s ears – and the ears of the unborn child inside of her, the sweet promise of a future that was half hers, and half her lost pilot.

“All this time,” Poe was crying as Rey was pondering. “All this time, and you were in the world thinking I didn’t _care._ ” He rested his forehead on her midriff, and Rey instinctively wound her fingers through his curls. “If I had known – fuck, if I had known, I would have been here sooner, I held off when I was trying to find you, I swear, I swear to you on every star, on the Bible, on my mother’s grave – I had no idea.”

“I believe you,” Rey said. It didn’t matter if it were a lie – she wanted it to be true. That was good enough.  

“I missed you,” Poe confessed. Somehow his other hand had found its way to her abdomen, and slowly his hands slid to her back, and his arms wrapped around her torso, his forehead still pressed to the evidence of their love. “I dreamed about you.”

“I dreamed about you too,” Rey said, stroking his curls. “I dreamed of our family. I wanted it. I wanted it to be real, but I didn’t hear from you—” she circled back to the point, but Poe didn’t seem to want to call her on it, if the agonized groan was any indication.

“I’m sorry.” He stood then, his hands still on her back as he rose, and Rey placed her hands on his hips, her thumbs stirring circles over the fabric there. “I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, and then some. Just – fuck, please don’t send me away – please. I don’t deserve any better, I know that, but fuck, even if I have to sleep in a broom closet, or, or work in the kitchen, or anything you want. Please give me a chance to make it up to you, and please, please, let me see our baby.” Rey began to cry in earnest again, and Poe followed her, barely coherent as his mouth ran away from himself, again. “I’ll do anything, be anything, just – I need to be there for you, for both of you, I promise I won’t … not again, I’ll try to do right by you, anything you can give me, but please babydoll, don’t send me away.”

“I won’t,” Rey said. This was the truth. She wouldn’t. “If you promise to stay, I promise I won’t ask you to leave.”

“That sounds too easy,” Poe laughed, and Rey kissed his tear-stained cheeks, the first kiss she’d pressed to his skin since that cloudy day he’d left. “Not that I’m complaining, but I should at least get some sort of punishment for what I did.”

Rey pulled away to stare at him firmly, her hand soft on his face. “You have suffered enough,” she said quietly. Poe flinched away from her gaze for a moment before steeling himself and returning the gaze. “As have I. It is high time we started our next adventure.”

Poe’s lips found hers, and it was a sloppy approximation of the skillful dance they’d managed to perfect during their short time together the previous fall – but it was a fantastic kiss, for it was between two souls deeply in love, once again united in the face of opposition and obstacle, two souls who had found each other, fought their way back to each other, and were now swearing to love each other for all eternity.

It was not perfect, and it never would be – the ghosts that haunted them still existed, but seemed more manageable then, on a beautiful May afternoon – but for a codebreaker and a pilot, it was their own, indescribable version of a happy ending.

***

Major Poe Dameron married Rey Erso-Andor on June 8, 1945, thirteen months to the day of their meeting. His hand never quite healed, and he would not fly a plane for another decade. Rey Andor retired from full-time intelligence work, a choice made easier by the culmination of the war in the European theater. She offered her skills as a consultant well into the 1980’s.

The Andor-Damerons lived in northern England, at Lah’mu, surrounded by their loved ones: Rose Tico and Finn Trooper, who would go on to propose to Rose Tico in the spring of ’46, were present at the wedding of Major Dameron and Miss Andor. Also in attendance were Ben (Hux-)Solo, and Armitage Hux III. Millicent Hux was also invited, but soon disappeared to torment the respectable Bletchley Baby, whose felicity upon seeing his beloved co-owners reunited was unmatched by any.

Leia Organa-Solo stood with Chirrut Imwe and Baze Malbus while the minister walked Major Dameron and Miss Andor through their vows, and she handed tissues to the two men as they started to cry at _I do._

No one’s face shone brighter than Kes Dameron, who stood prouder than a peacock behind his brave, kind, and above all, good-hearted son as he wed the woman he had loved for precisely thirteen months.

Major Poe Dameron and Miss Rey Erso-Andor wed on June 8, 1945, and they emerged from the small church beaming, vibrant, and more resolute than ever in the face of the troubles that had threatened them for so long. Their union was one of equals, and a happy one; they worked for their happiness, some days more than others, but they never forgot the core vow they exchanged on their wedding day:

_I swear to stand by your side, through all the trials and tribulations in this life; I vow to reach for your hand when I encounter an obstacle of my own, to seek your ear for guidance, and your soul for support._

***

**May 8, 1946**

“May I have this dance, Mrs. Dameron?” Rey looked up and smiled at her husband, who swayed barefoot in the doorway of the nursery.

She shushed him and indicated that the last thing she wanted was to wake the infant she had just gotten to sleep. Her exhaustion was nearly unbelievable, unlike anything she’d ever felt before – their daughter was seven months old now, but Rey still felt like she hadn’t truly slept in over a year.

With his trousers rolled up above his ankle, and his shirt unbuttoned over his undershirt, Poe Dameron cut quite a dashing figure as his hips moved to the beat of “Moonlight Cocktail,” which drifted in from the radio in the room across the hall.

“Well?” He cocked his head at her while dancing towards her; Rey couldn’t resist him, and she took his hand with a giggle.

“Alright then.” She pretended to sigh, but didn’t resist when he pulled her all the way into his embrace. His lips soon found the side of her head, and he hummed along with the song, their bare feet sometimes bumping into each other, Rey’s head nestling into his shoulder while they spun in lazy circles a few feet away from their daughter’s crib.

“I love you,” Poe said, and Rey smiled contentedly, the words bringing her just as much as joy as they had the first time. “I love you so damn much.”

“No cursing in front of the baby,” Rey admonished with a yawn.

“Am I keepin’ you up, Mrs. Dameron?” Poe teased her. She looked up at him with an expression that Bletchley Baby made very often, one that suggested disgruntled displeasure. Poe laughed at her for all her ferocity and kissed the tip of her nose gently, her hand still caught up in his own, his other hand still firm on her waist as they danced.

“I was thinking of going to bed,” Rey said sweetly, battling her eyelashes at him.

“Probably a good idea to get some rest,” Poe said in understanding and kissed her gently, on the lips, this time. Rey deepened the kiss before he could pull away, pausing in their dance to remove her hand from his and slide it along his chest, up the back of his neck, and into his hair. Poe groaned and kissed her back, holding her tight to his body.

“Who said anything about resting?” Rey murmured into his mouth, her hand still in his hair, her lips barely pulled away from his enough to speak. Poe’s answering smile was lazy, lecherous, and potent.

“Mrs. Dameron,” he said, pretending to be scandalized. Rey quirked an eyebrow at him, and the song on the radio finished, the applause filling the airwaves for a long moment.

Poe pulled away long enough to bow with a flourish, and Rey curtsied. He offered her his hand, and she didn’t hesitate to take it, the lamplight glinting off the silver ring that never left her left hand.

“To bed, then,” Poe said wonderingly, as though it were the first time, as though she hadn’t chosen him, actively, every day for almost two years, as though she hadn’t chosen him to be her partner for the rest of her life, ‘til death did they part.

“Lead the way, Major,” Rey teased. Poe saluted smartly, and then dodged forward, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. Rey almost shrieked in protest, but slapped a hand over her mouth last second. “Poe!” She hissed.

“Don’t wake the baby, ma’am.” They exited the nursery quickly, breathless with laughter, and Rey gave him hell the second her feet touched the floor of their bedroom.

She had never been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS OVER! '
> 
> COMIN IN, ON A WING AND A PRAAAAAYER  
> COMIN IN, ON A WING, AND A PRAAAAAAAYER!
> 
> thank you for reading, thank you for being patient with me as I re-worked and re-worked this story (it was 200% more tragic in the first draft), thank you for ignoring my historical inaccuracies in favor of a storyline that served our star wars needs!
> 
>  
> 
> [one WIP down, three major WIPs to go - the only person who hates me more than you is me!]

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, as always <3
> 
> *** = Time skip


End file.
